Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Rescue 911

DistanceTimeRoutePace
10.11:55:20 hrs.Monterey Bay Aquarium <-> PG High School via Oceanview Blvd.11:25 mins./mi.


There wasn't much that went right with today's 10-miler.

I woke up to darkness at 5:50 a.m., 10 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off. My heart seemed to be beating a little fast and I was sweating a bit. I also had indigestion from eating late the night before.

Oh well. I got up anyway. After all, I had to meet Kenny at 6:30 for our reunion run, the first time we would train together since his recovery from injury. I stretched on my tights, threw a pair of silver shorts over them (for visibility) and headed out into the cold, moist darkness.

I got to our meeting place. No Kenny. Fifteen minutes later. Still no Kenny.

The bleach-blonde girlie-man stood me up.
Maybe he's afraid of the dark.

No matter. The first lights were staring to peek up over the bay, and there were plenty of other joggers on the trail to keep me company. Soon, I was chugging my way toward Asilomar, reminding myself to take it slow because of Tuesday night's speedy 5-miler.

Plodding to Mile 4, up Forest Hill to PG High, I cracked open my Gatorade. Gulp. Gulp. The acid in my stomach made itself known. I heard my cell phone squawking from my fanny pack. Without looking, I turned it off.

Running back, I decided to go a little faster, as the light rain cooled my body. Sure, I was burping up a little oatmeal/Gatorade/acid mixture, but if eating breakfast once is good for you, repeating the meal must be twice as nice.

Two miles left, I felt good, so I pushed it a bit. About 1 mile left, I felt a little twinge in my right hip. I thought it was my fanny pack rubbing against the bone, so I loosened the strap and finished my run like a real he-man (minus the fur-lined briefs, bob haircut and talking cat sidekick).

When I got out of the car back at home, I was surprised. I could hardly walk. It felt like someone stabbed me in the hip. I must have hurt something. So I stretched and iced and stretched some more, then hit the shower.

On my way to work, I finally got around to checking my cell phone. I had a message. Maybe Kenny called me to apologize. Looking at my call log, though, I saw something curious. Under dialed calls, it said this:

Emergency Number
7:10 a.m. Jan. 05

I checked my message. On the phone was a confident but comforting voice.

"Jon. This is Monterey County 911 Emergency Dispatch. Your cellular phone is repeatedly dialing 911. If it is not an emergency, please secure your phone."

This can't be good. Isn't it a crime to carnk-call 911? It isn't even a pre-set on my phone. What are the odds? And I still have indigestion.

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