Crazy Legs

When I was little, I loved the feeling of being half-asleep in the back of my dad's car as we rolled into his driveway late on a Friday night. I loved the feeling so much that, even after the six hour drive from my mom's, I didn't want the ride to be over. I was so comfortable in that half-asleep place between where I was coming from and where I was going. Then Dad would gently wake me up and put the front seat forward for me to climb out of his LeCar and stagger into his house remembering in the dark that there was one step up onto the porch.

I couldn't imagine in that half-conscious state that I could even wake up enough just to brush my teeth. But by the time I had, I'd come down to the basement to find that the fold out couch in the basement was pulled out and made, and the TV was on.

Just in time for SCTV. Second City TV. You may never have seen it -- it's on TV Land now, from what I understand. But you've heard of Bob & Doug McKenzie, and you know Eugene Levy, Martin Short and Catherine O'Hara. I was too young to get most of it. I liked Bob & Doug. But what I remember giggling the hardest at was a character called Crazy Legs. I don't remember the story line very well, but Crazy Legs, played by Harold Ramis (so says Google, though I could have sworn he was played by Joe Flaherty) was always at the head of a long conference room table in the middle of a serious meeting -- someone about to get fired or something -- and his legs would just appear on the table top, dancing around as if of their own accord. It was ridiculous. It made no sense. And it was absolutely hysterical.



Not so hysterical was last night when I was trying to go to sleep and I felt like Crazy Legs Lott. I was dead tired from my long day at work and my strenuous run, and my mind was more than ready to sleep. So was most of my body. But my legs decided they weren't ready to be resting. My legs wanted to keep moving. It was out of my control. I would be almost asleep, and then BAM -- one of my legs would kick on its own as if still running up the Great Hill in Central Park.

The "great" in Great Hill does not mean "fantastic" or even "splendid." The great in Great Hill means BIG. Not so much steep (though by my standards, it is that), but it covers a lot of ground. It's long. And I ran it twice, because it was the most convenient way to get in my three miles. It was hard, but I managed to improve my pace from a 12 to just over an 11 minute mile (still very slow by race standards), so I was pleased with myself. And the endorphin rush was great (as in fantastic and splendid).

But hours later, my legs were still on the Great Hill and I couldn't sleep. The Ambien my good friend gave me for the plane had been gone for days, and the last time I took Tylenol PM I was useless the next day, so I really didn't want to do that.

At 2 a.m., when I'd read half of a Grisham novel and still couldn't sleep, I decided to try an old school sleep remedy. I got up, poured myself a scotch and turned on the television.

And it worked. I was asleep within an hour.

Just another side effect of running. I'll add that to the list:

1) toenails will break and fall off
2) joints – important ones like hips and knees – may never recover
3) one word – chafing
4) dehydration (I've seen her dehydrate sir. It's pretty gross.)
5) excessive sweating (Anyone who knows me knows that I sweat more than most people. For anyone who doesn't know me, I was the only person in my ballet class who had to keep a towel with me at the bar or I'd slip off. That's how much I sweat.)
6) crazy legs syndrome
7) driven to drink

(Just as a reminder, don't forget to donate to my race efforts with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training. They are doing some great work with the victims of Hurricane Katrina, helping cancer victims who have been flooded out of their hospitals and getting them the treatment they need.)