Locked out

It wasn't so hard to get to my friend's house: a 70 dollar taxi ride with a driver who kept nodding off, but a beautiful sunrise and the sight of the Olympics partially shrouded by mist was compensation enough. I got out of the taxi, took my bags up the stairs, and then spent ten minutes trying to figure out where the keys were, without any success. Finally, I admitted defeat and texted my friend, who called me back with the (fairly obvious) location, and I was in.

I let my body recuperate from the cold for a little while, ate some crips, put on some tights and ran down the hill to Green Lake. It's just under 5k round, which is easy if you're not jet lagged, and still doable if you've just flown in from Singapore, although occasionally people would storm past and I'd try to follod them before being dropped. Something to work on for tomorrow, I suppose.

I headed back afterwards, cold and shivering, and passed out after an hour, waking up a few hours later to go out and eat pie.

The evening has been nothing much apart from pie, booze, more pie, and yet more booze. I've had strong rye cocktails, sweet gin ones, gloomy dark beer, and more pie. And then, as my eyelids fluttered and it was clear that I was not long for this world, we drove back to Green Lake and I was put to bed. Tomorrow I'll be better.