I had a plan.
I'd get to bed early Saturday night, wake up well-rested this morning, and run my eight miles. In effect, I'd have switched my long run and my rest day, but as eight miles isn't a stretch for me, I figured no harm done.
I went to bed at 9:30, hoping to fall asleep by 10. I noticed a smell of smoke; queried the spouse, who suggested that it was an outdoor grill or firepit.
The smell grew stronger. By 11pm, I looked outside, and I saw this.
The toddler woke up when we opened his door to ensure air could circulate into his room. We had to shut the windows and turn off the swamp cooler due to the smoke. We hid out in the basement for a bit, where it was cooler and less obviously smoky, and then we lost power, and all went upstairs to go back to sleep once we saw via Twitter that the fire had been largely contained and that the evacuation order had been lifted.
Fortunately, no injuries and no property damage. But yes, the trail near where I normally run was ON FIRE.
As a result, I've had maybe five hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours. And I've gone from exhausted to drained. The air quality is horrible, although we might get some relief if it rains this afternoon.
Missing this run won't kill me. I can do eight; I've done it before. Next weekend I have nine scheduled, and I can manage that, too. But I'm itching to get out there.
Maybe after a nap?