In the first apartment that my wife and I had together, we had an upstairs neighbor who seemed to wear high-heeled shoes (on hardwood floors) at all times. So, in our second place, we lived on the top floor. Problem solved, right? Well, it would have been, if only the downstairs neighbor didn't love bass-heavy music in his ceiling-mounted speakers. We're talking 7am, Easter morning. Good times.
So when we moved down here, we found a nice place on the ground floor in a quieter part of town. A spot where we were close to things we wanted to do, but far enough out of the mainstream that the college students wouldn't be running rampant through streets.
Instead, we got post-college frat types who seem to believe that Sunday is their holy day of partying. I'm all for a good time, don't get me wrong, but when your party is starting at 12:30am on a Sunday night, I'm not okay with it. Especially when it involves running up and down stairs yelling at one another right outside of my bedroom window. I've already gone out and given a guilt trip to these hooligans. Last night, it was the wife who got to deliver the warning.
And still, they don't seem fazed by any of it. In fact, they decided at around 1:00 that they were going to head down to the pool (which is supposed to close at 10) so that one of the girls had a reason to scream every three minutes or so.
Am I just getting old? I felt like I should shuffle out there with a cane in grey pants up to my armpits and garters on my arms screaming something about whippersnappers. I could snap my suspenders at them to let them know I meant business, and then threaten to call the constable and have them all reprimanded to the proper authorities.
Then again, I really just wanted to tell them to shut the hell up. So maybe I'm not so old yet.
Still, waking up for an hour in the middle of the night is not conducive to a restful evening, and when the alarm went off, I immediately went back to bed. The thought process that I went through in those 15 seconds was phenomenal. It went something like, The alarm? Already? I've got to shut that off. I hate my neighbors. I can't run right now. I can run later. But it's going to be warm. I'll do a treadmill run. Oh, then I'll be able to stop in the office and report these morons. Wow, I'm going to get a lot done tomorrow. This bed is awesome. Zzzz...
And so I did. Filled with irritation at this interruption at an entirely different apartment than last week's police visit, I made my visit to the office followed by my visit to the gym, where I ran a moderate mile, a quick mile, another moderate, another quick, and then one fast one to end as a way of justifying that I didn't actually get on the roads today. Actually, it was just nice to be able to do any speed work at all following yesterday's monster run. Most importantly, I needed a little variation in my three straight 5-milers this week, and with a treadmill run under my belt, that leaves the next two open for a standard run, and a hill run. So that's what I've got planned.
Provided, of course, that I actually sleep through the night.
Indoors / Treadmill
35 Minutes, 51 Seconds