This is the longest I’ve managed to stay away from Las Vegas since buying the condo there nearly 4 years ago. Seriously, between Dec 2009 and May 2013 we never went more than a 6 week stretch before a return visit. Whether it was an extended weekend, or a month-long stay, we were there at least once every month or so.
We last got back to Toronto on May 30th, which means that it has been over 11 weeks since I climbed a mountain. Hell, it’s been over 11 weeks since I’ve even seen a mountain! I am going through serious withdrawal. The shitty-ass weather (cooler and wetter than normal) in Toronto hasn’t helped my mood any.
It’s time to head back to the desert, mes amis.
So off we go.
I was all set to book my flights… Ahh…Not so fast there, missy.
Apparently Mr. Enthusiasm had different plans. Ones that included buying a completely impractical [and very old] collector car; a convertible, to boot.
“Hey”, said he, “why don’t we make it a road trip and then just keep this fun little thing down there, where we can enjoy it more. Oh, and we can bring the Vegas truck back to Toronto? C’mon, it’ll be fun! ROAD TRIP!!”
A super fun, 3 day road trip, in a 23 year old car. One that doesn’t have all the bells and whistles that I’m used to. Like air bags. [I’m for safety, so you know I will be a basket case the entire time; visions of the airbag-less death trap causing my early demise.]
So, off we go.
We are leaving at the butt crack of dawn Sunday morning. (The savvy reader will note that I have pre-written this, and it is scheduled to post some 3 hours after we’ve already hit the road.)
According to my GPS it is a 33 hour, 48 minute drive.
That doesn’t include meal stops. Or pee breaks.
I pee a lot.
On the good news front, I get to see my favourite Russian on Monday night. This assumes, of course, that we arrive at (or near) Joliet, Ill for Sunday night’s rest, followed by a straight shot through to Denver, home of the transplanted Russian Princess, for a short but sweet visit Monday night. Because she is my friend, and knows exactly what I need at all times, she will have a big, fat glass of red waiting for me as soon as we pull into the driveway. Early Tuesday morning we’ll ship out and make it another long leg all the way to our home in Vegas.
Realistically, we are looking at 3 consecutive days of 12-13 hour driving,
possibly probably longer, dependent on my pathetic bladder.
This means that getting my daily sweat in is going to be a son-of-a-bitch. Like, arguably the biggest challenge to staying on track so far. But it will happen. I am nothing if not a stubborn, stubborn cow. Sun, Mon and Tues nights’ workouts may be short and sweet, but they will happen.
Mark. My. Words.
Get moving! (Even when it’s not convenient, like on a 34 hour road trip!…)