Took a Xanax last night for the first time in my life. Can’t say it was the best experience. It is the new solution my doctor has prescribed to me for my sleeplessness. I felt all tilted, and I kept having the same dream over and over, which was task-oriented. So, I’d compete a task, forget I did it, then dream it again. Loop till dawn. It was pretty fucking awful–too much like real life. Also, I didn’t sleep through the night. The only difference was that when I woke up to wander the house, I kept bumping into doorframes and counters as if I was a drunkard (no fun if I haven’t had the red wine first). I’m not sold on this Xanax, I’ll have to try it a few more times before I’m convinced I can take it in public (eg, flight to & from London) and not end up naked yet unconscious.
Ran this morning. That was pretty terrific. I went five miles, around the south side of Queens Boulevard, which I rarely do (it’s my old neighborhood) but I didn’t feel like running the loop on my side. The first couple of miles I think I was warming up and shaking off the Xanax, but soon enough my legs felt energetic and I enjoyed the predawn. It was warm, there was a crescent moon, and there were no pedestrians to impede my progress. Well, except for the guy smoking a doob.* I wove my way along Queens Blvd and Greenpoint Avenue, then ran a grid along 47th, 48th and 50th Aves** between 36th and 46th Streets. As I pounded my way towards home with less than a mile to go, running north up 46th Street, my toe caught on a crack in the sidewalk and my body jackknifed forward. So violent was this trip I was convinced I was gonna take a digger, lose my front teeth and end up on the DL for the London Marathon. But, miraculously I righted myself and the only harm done was a few moments of irratic heartbeats. This happened to me once before, and it was the same thing: the worst-case scenario flashed before my eyes while my body instinctually saved itself. 5.1 miles ran in 48:34. Average pace 9:31; fastest mile 9:10; slowest mile 9:50.
When I was in high school, I worked as a check-out girl at our local Waldbaum’s supermarket. This was my third job ever, the first being babysitting (I self-educated using the dad’s Playboy magazines) and the second being as a library aide at the local elementary school (left alone after school hours to reshelve books, I napped). As a check-out girl, I thrived on the express lane. My personality is such that the less time spent with people the better, so I got everyone through quickly. I also was a hit wth the stock boys, one of them ultimately giving me my First Kiss (no, not in the meat locker. It was in his car, okay?). Anyway, one day before this First Kiss, I’d shown up to work all dolled up: black miniskirt, little white blouse, hair all teased out (this was Long Island in the late 80’s), my favorite flat loafers. My shift was ending, I was feeling pretty good (Mr. Future First Kiss had come forward from the stock room to bag on my line) so I strutted my way to the break room where I’d punch my time card. Wouldn’t you know, as I wiggled my way along the aisle in the front of the store (you know, the one into which all the register lines empty), I stepped on a piece of wet lettuce and lost my footing. I went flying forward, arms outstretched, bookbag launched to the side. I landed on my face, with my ass up in the air. Oh yes, everyone could see that the girl-who-had-never-been-kissed was wearing white cotton underpants beneath that hot miniskirt. When I scrambled to my feet, my face hot with shame and wet with a few tears, I realized I had a big smear of rotten lettuce that went from temple to chin. I was mortified as my boss gently wiped my face off, mirth in her eyes yet mercifully not in her voice. With teeth and innocence intact (I’d say I was chastened but really–I couldn’t get more chaste than I already was), I gingerly walked out of the supermarket to where Dad waited in the family Buick to bring me home to get some homework done.
Today was the second day of an intense digital marketing seminar my employer had “invited” me to attend, and after a morning of instruction on SEO and PPC, I was ready for some of the gorgeous weather everyone was tweeting about. I sashayed out of the building, my head tilted up towards the glorious sun. Yes, I was feeling pretty. I wore my adorable Crayola-blue 4″ pumps with the bows over the toes, my flattering little black dress, and my big chunky colorful glass bead necklace. Even my hair had complied and dried nicely. Let me try and find some walking-around shoes for London, or some silver heels for my sister-in-law’s wedding. Oh look, there’s an Aldo! I aimed myself across Sixth Avenue. Yes, you know what’s coming. I pitched forward off the pesky, sneaky curb that some city planner had decided to edge in metal thus causing my cute high heels to slide right off. I landed not on my face but on my left knee, then my right palm and right knee in quick succession. As I fell I thought, Not now! Not my knees! Not my teeth! Then, once I was flat-out (in the street, mind you! Thank god I fell between two parked cars!), Oh crap has anyone from the office seen me? Can this man trying to help me see up my dress? At least this time my panties were black. At least–because as soon as I got up, my left knee developed an instant golfball, and too dazed to change plans, I continued on to Aldo, where I bought a pair of silver sandals and a funky green satchel to use as my carry-on when I fly to London. (There’s the story’s, um, silver lining.)
I’ve been icing since 1 PM. Up and down stairs is pretty painful. I know I’ll heal in time for the marathon but I sure as shit ain’t gonna run 10 miles tomorrow to work as I was planning. Maybe Friday. Instead, tonight I am self-medicating with a bottle of Nero D’Avola and some quality time with you all, writing out the memories of my ass-up moments, hoping that will banish any future occurrence.
*There’s something about city running–I catch a whiff of somebody smoking weed as I zoom by all healthy-like, at least twice a week. Am I the only runner who notices? Usually it’s skunk weed but sometimes it is sweet and clean smelling, and reminds me of my younger, plumper days, when I was a pothead’s girlfriend and living in Northern California, working as a waitress.
**Q: where is 49th Avenue in Sunnyside, Queens? A: There is no 49th Avenue in Sunnyside! It only exists in Long Island City–it curves south to blend into 51st Ave, then into Laurel Hill Blvd, at 39th Street.
Two things: I always run by peeps smokin’ up and actually it’s been even more frequent lately. I figured either there’s a sweet sale going on somewhere or my sense of smell is heightened. Oh and by the post’s title I thought we might be discussing song lyrics. DON’T ASK! 🙂
I just thought it was funny the dude was smoking weed at 6 AM. No judgement.
I love these stories. So real and beautifully written! And I’m so hyper-aware of tripping now! I’ve been catching my flip-flop (house shoes) on my bathroom rug lately! :-@ Maybe I just need to go barefoot more often… LOL
Anyway, I know you’ll be fine and you’re gonna rule the London Marathon!! I can’t wait to read your blog post about that!!
Awe. Thanks! Yeah, no lies about my embarrassing moments, I share so we all feel better.
Few smells are better than GOOD BUD!!!
Screw the Xanax and take a 1 hit of the hydro, much better for ya, will knock you right out. Pharmas suck.
Glad you are ok sweetie, embarassment wins any day over a real bad injury!
xo
rD
“Judgement”? I see we’re getting ready for London.
Also, that’s pretty well has always been Long Island.
Finally, take it from someone with plates in his arm, consider yourself lucky after the fall.
I think the probability of lower extremity injuries rise exponentially the further along you are into your taper. Don’t know why, don’t know how, but I’ve had my share of falls, stubbed toes, splinters and the like during taper week so I know it’s true. One day I’ll come around to doing a formal scientific study on this.
Either way, entertaining story. I think your ego might be more bruised than your knee because for sure that will heal up in a couple of days. Recover well, my friend.
The proper news crews in London have already been notified that you will indeed ROCK THIS RACE! They say they’re ready. So are you!
Have fun!
Ouch! Recover the knee!!
I do very similar things all the time. Thank you for sharing, it is good to know I am not alone.
I will definitely catch a weed sniff when running. Plus I’ve been offered a joint twice by guys smoking it while on my way home from my Tues. training run, maybe it’s the running pants and the fact that the walk goes by 50-gazillion sports bars?
Random:
– We get some quality weed smokers up here in the suburbs. I even found a small packet along our running path once, but it was too far gone from exposure to be of use.
– Why are you screwing around with Xanax when there are perfectly good sleep meds out there? Try Lunesta. I get 3mg pills and cut them in half. If you have freaky dreams stay away from Rozerem.
– I’m sorry about your spill, but it’s a comfort to know there are others who are gravity challenged out there. I have scars on my chin, upper lip and hand (and three bionic front teeth) to attest to multiple run-ins with the ground. I also got a concussion this winter from slipping on ice while running. I never suffered the indignity of rotting vegetables as a moisturizer, though.
Oh Xanax sounds funnnnnn! Great job on your run! I hope the injury is nothing major!! 😦 Booo knee. You sound like my sister though! Those curbs suck!
Yeah, I get two different types of weed smokers when I’m out and about. There’s the semi-homeless guys sitting on the sidewalk on Queens Blvd, and the hipsters in Greenpoint and W’burg.
No discernible difference in quality of weed, but maybe that’s just because I run by too fast to take it all in.
Sidenote: I now have the tune “Face down, ass up, that’s the way I like to —-” stuck in my head.
This will probably continue for the next three days. Thank you.
Um yeah I didn’t even realize that was a song until you commented that. Then my friend Frankie “Boom” said, “Hun, do you realize…?” OH! Now I do!
i heart xanax, but if you’re reacting like that, it really might not be for you! lol. I can’t believe you fell like that! oh man, take care of that knee lady, you’re beyond ready to do some major damage in London, don’t go all crazy trying to get some silly little miles in. Hang in there, you rock, lady!
Sorry TK. I know what it’s like to fall. I fell 3 separate times on the boardwalk during runs. And I have no clue how it happened.
I am just very relieved you are ok. Enjoy your run tomorrow!