Runners’ Nightmares (and the damage Waffle House can do to one’s psyche)

Usually runners' dreams consist of missing the start of a race or running naked, but instead this is what I felt like in my dreams after a meal at Waffle House...

Usually runners' dreams consist of missing the start of a race or running naked, but instead this is what I felt like in my dreams after a meal at Waffle House...

As healthy as I try to be, I cannot deny my love of Waffle House. And perhaps I harbor a slight, secretive mistrust of those who do not share that passion. Luckily, a couple of like-minded friends were also in the mood for WaHo last Friday night. And two egg & cheese biscuits with hashbrowns later, I was in bed, facing four hours of sleep before a 13-mile training run on Saturday morning. This is not a new story.

But this was different. WaHo penetrated my dreams in ways I have never before experienced. The best way I can describe the sensation was feeling like a sticky, gooey Jabba the Hut – spread out across my entire bed and unable to move (due to both size and greasiness) to get up and go run. Everything was so sluggish and, when I started thinking of the buttery biscuit, thoughts of Jabba’s slobbery jowels filled my mind and I nearly lost it. Oh, the sloth!

After my four hours of sleep, I did get up and run, which was a bit of a miracle, but this has opened the door to whole new possibilities of runner’s nightmares… Too bad I won’t be giving up on Waffle House any time soon (at least not while training for a marathon).(And I felt a little more like the beanbag Jabba than the guy so comfortably reclining on him.)

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