Today:

This weekend I had planned to take some time off from going out and getting drunk, in an attempt to save money, catch up on sleep, and potentially even do some work. Looking at those three things and then thinking that I have to stop drinking to get them done probably makes me look like an alcoholic. But I digress.

Today I woke up and made myself a nice big breakfast, with all the trappings one would find in a real meal: scrambled eggs with Swiss cheese and chopped onions and peppers, served with fresh avocado and salsa. I even made bacon, to boot. Not bad for a kitchenette.

I took some time to digest, and then I went out for a run towards a track that I had seen on Google Maps. It was a couple miles away, which was just enough of a warm up for me to launch into a two-mile fartlek in an attempt to begin working off the rust in advance of track season. The track itself was nothing special: far from being a legitimate running surface, it was an aging cinder track that was probably more grass than actual cinder. But, as far as running in circles goes, it did the job.

On the way out I checked out another area on the campus that had caught my eye on satellite. From above, it looked like a running track, except one set out in some crazy S-shape. As it turns out, it is a track of sorts (and even has a rubber surface): it's an obstacle course. Now at this point I wasn't sure exactly what type of school I had stumbled on; sure, there was a security checkpoint at the entrance -- but the guy waved me through without a thought -- and while it was a pretty big campus dotted with other structures suggesting one enormous campus-wide obstacle course, it must just be part of the physical education program. Regardless, I checked out the obstacle course, and even thought about doing it myself, but abstained for fear of 1) injuring myself when no one else around, and 2) looking like a complete idiot in the event that anyone actually was around.

I must say, after a careful inspection of the course, the Danes do not mess around when it comes to obstacles. The roughly 600 meter long course was dotted with all matter of ladders, balance beams, concrete walls, and other structures that were ingenious in their ability to keep obstacle course runners from successfully advancing past them. I decided that watching a class of whatever students go to this school try to complete the course as fast as their little Danish legs would carry them would be quite fun indeed. It was then that I noticed one particularly interesting challenge. It was a hole in the ground, surrounded by a temporary fence. It looked like a steeplechase pit, so that's what I decided it was. But as I approached and looked for the telling slanting base, I discovered that it in fact just dropped down about eight feet on all sides to a gravel-lined pit below. For some reason I still envisioned it as filled with water, and as I imagined people either jumping and slamming their shins into the bank on the other side or just getting into the water, paddling two strokes across, and then getting out, I thought, "This is the most inconvenient obstacle ever." Then I realized that it is not supposed to be filled with water -- it's just a pit. Competitors run, jump into the pit, and then have to pull themselves back out, one way or another. While I hoped that on the day of the event the pit would be filled with hissing snakes or scorpions or something, I figure this is not the case. Admittedly, I was again curious as whether I could best this particular challenge, but after considering how humbling it would be to be trapped and have to wait a long time for help, I decided against it. Anyways, this concluded my adventure with the obstacle course, and after pumping out some pull-ups on one of the bars, I jogged off, passing another guard post on the way out. I was then that I saw the monkey bars. I was in an Al Qaeda training ground.

Back home, I showered, ate, and did all those things that aren't worth describing here before going to the grocery store for some necessary items. As I went through the store and filled my basket with the only five things that I wanted or needed (it was just a supplementary trip), I considered how odd my purchase would look to the person checking me out:

1 tin of chocolate powder, for chocolate milk (I had a craving)
1 two-roll package of duct tape, for Wizard Staff (I am taking part in a transatlantic game tomorrow via Skype)
1 six-pack of beer, to add to my stockpile (also for Wizard Staff)
1 package of Danish sandwich chocolate, to bring back to the states
1 large sack of oranges, for eating

I tried to imagine what plausible explanation one could have for the day's purchases (besides the real one), but I couldn't come up with one. Feeling a bit sheepish about how ridiculous I probably looked, I nonchalantly gazed at (and pretended to be able to comprehend) some Danish tabloids. Then I noticed the woman in front of me. I thought my purchases were odd, but her's took the prize -- among other things:

1 large bag of rice
1 package of spinach
assorted produce
1 newspaper
1 baby blue polo shirt

Okay, so I guess the polo shirt is the only weird part. And I had always wondered who actually bought that stuff at a Netto; I've marveled at how Nettos are like The Christmas Tree Shop, a CVS, and a poorly-stocked grocery store all rolled into one, but I had never actually seen anyone take advantage of it.

All told, an interesting day in Copenhagen. Not one worth repeating, perhaps, but it's too late for that. Now where's my beer?