Ok, I’ll start…
This is back in my university days when I was at a pub, had way way too much to drink and I could not drive home. As a result, I ended up running 15.6 km in a very very tipsy state in jeans and a pair of casual shoes. It was actually an awesome feeling - I felt like i was floating.
with or without sirens?
Brian
yes, it’s imperitive to know the answer before answering…
Whatever makes a better true story. 
Also, is an irate husband or large boyfriend chasing?
I ran to a bathroom once that seemed like it was a hundred miles away.
Do I get bonus points for doing said run (actually, I’ve run/walked home more than once, back in the day) wearing docksiders and no socks?
instant images of the fat husband in sideways.
18 years ago (I was 20), I was in a pub were a 100 km walking event passed. At 5 o’clock in the morning, me and a friend were pushing each other to go home, take silently (we both stille lived with our parents) our running gear and run the last 28 km. He never showed up (his dad cought him putting on his running shoes), but I left and started running. Unfortunatly, I was so drunk, I didn’t realise I was following the signs for the cars (for people accompanying the athletes), instead of the signs for the athletes.
After 20 km, I was so tired (and still had stomach problems), I didn’t noticed the police was following me. They stopped me asking if I was attending the 100 km (called ‘dodentocht - trip of dead’ approx. 15.000 athletes). When they noticed the state I was in, they gave me a lift back home. Nice escort. Every time since then these cops see me, they have a big smile…
Also, is an irate husband or large boyfriend chasing?
I never had to run from an ex-girlfriend. However, I once dated an olympic rower. She was strong (and great in bed, but that’s another story). Although I never had to run away from her, she was so pissed at one point that she picked up the vacuum cleaner and threw it like a baseball right at my head. Missed my head and made a hole in the drywall behind me.
We broke up the next day.
She took the vacuum with her.
I don’t remember.
I do remember riding drunk a couple of times after getting hammered the night before but still faithfully making my team’s morning training ride. Man does one’s sweat stink after a night of G and T’s. But you sure sober up fast turning the legs and pouring water down your throat.
Then there was the morning I had to ride to work to train two new shop employees while I was still reeling from the effects of a, just one, pot cookie. I gave it a shot for an hour and then told the guys to hang out at the counter and observe things for the rest of the day while I went back to my desk and put my head down for a few hours.
Never again. I’m glad I outlived my youth.
Wow. I have a thing for rowers. Must have been good while it lasted.
I once ran from a bar back to the dorm in cowboy boots about 2.7 miles.
Before I answer, can anybody tell me what the statute of limitations is for running from the police drunk and naked down 5th street in Chico on your 21st birthday?
Dave
i like your story. drunk running escapades are almost a requirement for being a world class runner. i don’t personally know a sub-2:10 marathoner without such a story.
One day/evening a friend and I drank quite heavily in preparation for meeting some people at a bar some distance from my friend’s apartment. He was going to meet a girl(now his wife), I was just going. We get to the bar, I reach in my pocket–no wallet! I tried walking right into the bar only to have the bouncer stop me. I tell my friend the problem(I assumed I had left it at his place). He tells me he’s going in to make time with this girl and gives me a $20 for a cab home. I ask the bouncer to call me a cab. He replies, “We don’t do that.” Huh? Anyways, me being obliterated, my next completely rational thought was to simply hoof it home(I doubt a could’ve counted to 10 much less operated a telephone device).
So I start walking. About 15 minutes into it, I realize this is going to take forever, so I start running. That lasted about 20 steps as my foot hit a minor low spot in the road causing me to go from the vertical to the horizontal at mach 3. I resembled a crime scene chalk outline laying on the ground–full running pose and everything. Ok, no more running.
Resume the long march home. Next rational thought: let’s hitchhike. Mind you, it’s probably 11:30 or 12 at nite, but hey, whatever gets me home right? So I am hitching and get picked up by a very gay man intent on hitting on me(or at least that is the very very strong vibe I got through my alcohol induced haze). Feeling uncomfortable, I asked the guy to stop roughly 1/2 mile after he picked me up. By now I am getting fairly close to my friend’s place and there’s a path I can run on(plus I was starting to sober up a teensy bit). So I jump out of the car and start jogging again. Make it back to my friend’s place, proceed to pound as loudly as possible on the door to wake his roommate up to let me in, collapse on the couch, and pass out.
Total Distance: Easily 10 miles.
Post-script: The next day, we proceed to look around for my wallet and keys in his apartment. Nothing. He calls the girl he met out there(she was actually our ride to the bar) and asks her to check her car. BINGO! Wallet AND keys were in her car. Of course, no one thought to check her place BEFORE I started my trek home…
“statute of limitations…police drunk and naked down 5th street in Chico on your 21st birthday?”
monty will absolutely know the answer to this qustion. right now i have to go fetch him, he’s on a bike ride bonked up in the mountains somewhere. he’ll answer later.
I thought the only sport that you were supposed to attempt drunk was golf.
8 miles back to my car… where I then ended up driving home and waking up the next afternoon, not knowing how I or my car got back into the driveway…
That was a really really bad night.
Ran a few times and it felt like I was dragging my car…no floating sensations. But I did once ride my roomate’s bike home from a bar, 8-10 miles from home. He had it in his car and told me if I wanted to go right then, that that was my only option. Took his bike and left…all I remember is going down this long hill and thinking I’m gonna crash. Woke up the next day in bed, no idea how I got home and my roomate comes in with his bike wanting to know what happened. The frame looked like a tacoed wheel it was bent so bad. But not a scratch on me…and 20 years later I still don’t have a clue what happened.