Excess

It has been a whirlwind the last week.
Excessive lifestyle--dining at most of my favorite places--wine bars, foodie friendly and mexican.

I suppose I could live in mexican restaurants. I tried a few months ago. Really, I did. I think, if I remember correctly, I ate at mexican restaurants for ten consecutive days. Too much. I love chips and salsa but even I had had too much during that 10 day stretch.

The 1/2 Marathon kept me honest. No drinking on Saturday and my dining was healthy. For the first time in a week, I enjoyed a homecooked meal. Heirloom tomato bruschetta followed by baked salmon burgers and asparagus. Delightful. The company was lovely as well. Lindsay's grandma, Betty, is a hoot. She turned 80 last year and got a Betty Boop tattoo. Yes, Betty knows how to enjoy life.

The race, well, went better than anticipated. Like I have written, numerous times, my training severely lacked. I hope to make that race my reference point for future races. Upward and onward. Next race, Georgetown-Idaho Springs. Or, maybe I will find another race before August to test my redemption theory.

Yes, excessive behavior. Still, I wouldn't change anything about the last week. Well, maybe one thing. I met a friend for happy hour and we continued to imbibe through dinner and into the night. Conversation and wine equally flowed. A few appetizers here and on to the next spot. I was enjoying myself. I convinced my friend we should have one more cocktail before walking back to her apartment.

Mistake. Only in that we truly did not need the final drink. In my head, I wanted a chartreuse cocktail--no idea why.

Nevertheless, we began the walk back to her place. My phone rang and I answered it. I was talking when, suddenly, she darted off in the opposite direction. I called after her, but she was gone. I knew where she lived, in theory. I was unfamiliar with which building she lived in but since she wouldn't respond to my texts, I headed in that general direction.

I contemplated my options. Find her. Walk to a hotel and hope to get in touch with her the following day. My belongings were in her place and I needed them. Or, ironically, my friend lived a block from a place that had been a safe haven for me for 8 years. I considered walking in there but decided against it. I had not seen any of them in four months and what a way to make an entrance---I am intoxicated and stranded....can someone help me?

No, it didn't seem likely or right. My best bet would be to find my friend. I walked to her complex, jumped a fence. Real smart since the 1/2 Marathon was a day later. Had I stepped down wrong, I could have messed up that plan.

I walked around her complex and entered the building I thought was hers. It wasn't. I was about to walk up to a hotel that I knew was near when I ran into my friend on a staircase. I have no idea where she came from. I was just happy to have found her.

The next day, she asked me what happened. I forgot to mention that I had received a text from the bartender from our last stop. She told me that my friend had left her wallet thingy at her bar.

Makes sense, right? Drinking leads to irrational thoughts and behavior. I think my friend realized that she did not have her wallet and was trying to locate it along the Cherry Creek Trail. She didn't and somehow managed to walk home, unscathed, and find me in the process.

I would have changed my insistence to have that one last cocktail. It was my idea that landed us in the precarious situation of me sleeping outside or in a random hotel. Thankfully, that did not happen. Everything worked out and I had a good story to reflect back on. The next morning, it was fun to process where the breakdown started.