So, I "went" for a run yesterday at the hotel. On a treadmill.
I don't know this area at all and I wasn't confident that the routes I could map out would work that well for me, so I just used the treadmill. I was bored out of my mind. At around 4 miles, I started having trouble with the headphones and I tried to readjust them. In the process of trying to straighten them out, I pulled the emergency stop switch. And, since both my hands were busy with the headphones and iPod, I had no ability to catch the handles to stabilize myself. So, I flew off the treadmill.
What could have been quite painful turned out to be mildly embarrassing. I basically did a mildly uncoordinated jump to the side, landing on both feet and cursing out loud. I then got back on and did another two miles, careful to not bother clipping the emergency stop to my clothes again.
It is a good thing that I did that run because I ate a massive piece of carrot cake last night. My boss, a coworker, and I went out to dinner at Rock Bottom Brewery. They both order the BBQ ribs, but I opted for the Greek Salad with Grilled Chicken - one of those menu items listed as a healthy option. Less than 500 calories, low in fat, etc. Well, I am sure it was healthy because it wasn't very much food. Chicken was dry, salad was basically just spinach leaves, and there wasn't much else. A bit of dressing, some feta, and sundried tomatos and olives rounded out the package...and the package didn't even come close to filling the salad bowl. Joe and Eric, boss and coworker, teased and taunted me as they gorged themselves on their ribs. I finished quickly and got to watch them eat, feeling sorry for myself and wondering what the hell else I would eat before bed. And then I saw her...Little Miss Carrot Cake. I figured that I had been such a good boy with the salad that I could enjoy a piece of cake, guilt-free. And she was talking to me, beckoning me from the little advertisement on the table. Eat me, Dave. Stab your fork into my icing-covered, super moist goodness.
Little did I know how big she really was. It was more like two pieces of cake stacked on top of each other with icing in between. I talked Joe into getting a piece as well and we both went at them with gusto. He bowed out at the halfway mark, but I soldiered on, getting into the bottom half. I felt gross and full and satiated. Then, we sat at the table. And sat and sat and sat until I became hungry enough to finish the rest of that piece of cake. The waitress was impressed, Joe and Eric were laughing, and I am still horrified by how much I ate. I can't find any nutritional information on it, but a similarly large piece of carrot cake from The Cheesecake Factory is over 1500 calories a serving. Ugh.
If I find a picture of this nightmare dessert, I will post it.