Two years ago, one year before my best friend Carla got married, she and I went on vacation to Disney World. Fast forward to now and Carla had been happily married to John for a year, and he happily stayed home rather than dealing with Carla and I at the most magical place on earth. Smart move. Some people, obviously, will think that this is odd - Carla a newlywed, me a single guy and "technically" her ex-boyfriend (although anyone who considers our three month dalliance as anything but a funny footnote in our overall story doesn't really get us) and her hubby staying at home. But that's what makes Carla and I (and yes, you too, John) so special. And don't you worry, Mom, when I will Imaginary Girlfriend into existence, she'll be staying home on Carla and my future vacations. Nothing weird here! We spent seven glorious days at Mickey's House, each day more filled with sun, rides and general tomfoolery than the previous. The only thing the days weren't filled with? Running.
Now I realize that the sun actually IS closer in Florida, but this was ridiculous. It was so hot, it felt like the sun was right next to my face every single morning. When I woke up it was as if the sun was trying to sneak out of my bed, slip on it's pants and climb out the window. It was by the end of the first day's journey at Hollywood Studios (no more MGM Studios!) that I realized going for a run was going to be a problem.
As days turned into nearly a week, Carla and I realized how schooled we were getting by Disney. We had made the mistake of getting too cocky. We had been there nearly three dozen times between the two of us, and together this was our 3 1/8 trip, if you count the time we dropped our friend-who-shall-remain-nameless off at one of the resorts for some happy time with her boyfriend at the time while we went to Universal Studios on a drive back from vacation in Marco Island, FL.
First, we had decided to upgrade our hotels from the usual All-Star Resort to a Moderate Resort. The only research we did was noting that the Caribbean Beach Resort had a pool-side bar. Sold. Little did we realize that it also had an outdated television set, barely any channels, no wi-fi, and was one of the largest resorts on the property, so the pool side was about a half a mile away from our room. It also, naturally, didn't have a gym. What it did boast was a 1.1 mile nature trail, in case you felt like going for a quick little job in 105 degree weather. Yum.
There are a bunch of little lessons that Disney humbled us with - enough in fact for an entirely different blog - that involve the Disney Dining plan, fast passes and transportation - but I won't go into them here. The point is that it was day four of vacation and I hadn't run a lick yet.
Carla, my biggest general advocate this side of Roxie Mouradian, decided we would wake up early take a bus to the Magic Kingdom, jump on the monorail to the Transport and ticket center, switch monorails and head to the gym at the Grand Floridian. No problem.
This was depressing in of itself, because I realized how much nicer a Disney vacation is when you feel like your actually on vacation being pampered at a fancy hotel. It was also depressing, because at nearly 30 years old, this is so well beyond my price range, I immediately started to realize I've done something wrong with my life. Me and my stupid fulfilling career in non-profit! All I wanted in the world was to get back to my computer at the Caribbean Beach resort, plug it into the Ethernet, wait 10 minutes for the internet to boot up, get charged $10 and find out that some publisher had stumbled onto Run, Fatboy, Run and decided to make me a three-book deal. Sigh.
The gym at the Grand Floridian was predictably state-of-the-art, and it took me nearly as much time to figure out how to program the treadmill as it did to go for my run. In the end, the rest didn't kill me - I was able to run out 5 miles in the hour we had allotted before we had to get ready for extended Magic Hours at the Magic Kingdom that evening. Peter Pan's Flight - on repeat.
The Workout:
5 miles / 12 minutes per mile.
The Picture:
Carla and I are deluded that people are obsessed with us, which is why after every picture we took at Disney we'd say something like: "Well, this is what the people want." So here you go! (Before you ask, yes, at some point we were wearing matching shirts and sunglasses. We never mean to, but by the last day it just... happens.)
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