Coming at you from Elkhart, Indiana, where it's raining, we left Poppy's dog bed out overnight, and the smell of wet dog and the sop of wet dog bed is going to really suck for the next bit of our journey. We're in the Eastern time zone now, which despite my being ride-of-die for the West coast, is truly the best time zone — you're up and getting things done before the West has even settled into REM sleep. But even though we're east-ish, we still have over a week to go before Move In Day. (Hence my anguish over that wet dog smell.)
It's been a week:
Movers came on Tuesday and packed everything. I also started training for the Staten Island Half Marathon (big hint there as to where we're moving), with the first speed workout I've done in months. Brutal. We ate at Xolo Taqueria before we left town — the taco stand across the street from our apartment and where we ate for our first Oakland meal when we moved in three-plus years ago. We also grabbed an ice cream from Miharu, which just opened on the corner. I had one with brownies and corn flakes — because breakfast is my thing now, amirite?
We stayed at a Motel 6 in Fairfield Tuesday night so that we were near the storage site for the RV. Wednesday morning, we grabbed breakfast at Wendy's — like I said, breakfast is a theme — and then hit the road.
Wednesday's destination: Battle Mountain, Nevada. I got up Thursday morning and ran.
Thursday night: a KOA campground in Rock Springs, Wyoming. We had donuts at Cowboy Donuts on Friday, a nod to the usual donut run. (They weren't anywhere near as good as Happy Donuts.) We stopped at the Little America in Cheyenne for a couple of their 75 cent ice cream cones — one for each of us, Poppy included.
Friday night we were in Ogallala, Nebraska, just in time for a tornado watch and a storm that was so violent that I figured we were going to die. Kin slept through it, and I didn't wake him because I figure one wants to die in one's sleep and how fucking rude to wake someone up just to tell them "we're going to die." We didn't die. Saturday morning, I ran.
Saturday's breakfast — we're testing out as many fast food breakfasts as we can, and it's "research," right? — was at Sonic. It took almost half an hour for our food to come. It was pretty sub-par. Do not recommend.
Saturday night, we arrived in Adel, Iowa, in time for another tornado watch. I ran on Sunday morning — my long run, which was supposed to be 75 minutes but I got lost and ran for about 20 minutes more. Hardest run I've ever done — psychologically, for sure, but also physically because who the fuck put hills in Iowa.
And here we are in Elkhart. Kin is still asleep. Poppy is back in bed too. We'll hit the road soon, I imagine, and keep heading east. We'll run out of I-80 highway tomorrow.