Zattu - I've done a few merry runs home on a friday evening from work, after my self-discipline has crumbled after a "swift pint".
Thankfully this is usually two pints, although it has been three. Not an absolute belly full and maybe if you were, say, meeting the in-laws for dinner and chat you could get away with it. But 7.5 miles through south manchester like this finds you out.
Actually, the usual pattern is that I'm OK at first, but then after a mile it becomes very, very unpleasant for a good few miles. Unusually for an alcohol induced state, time actually passes slowly as you wonder whether you picked up the wrong pair of legs on the way out and are running with the fat barman's instead.
HOWEVER, for the last mile or two, something magical happens. the clouds in the sky and in your head dissipate and you are off and running with ease. Tempo pace is a breeze. You would run longer, but then you remember you promised er Indoors you'd be home early and sober.
In fact, I am tempted to deliberately try this with Strava one evening and see if my impressions are backed up by data.
I have also got pissed when I was supposed to be crash dieting for a race, then gone to the gym in a desperate attempt to burn off the calories I'd consumed. But even the cross trainer, with support for hands and feet, seems something of a different proposition for your powers of balance and co-ordination.
I have (once) cycled home drunk. Without lights too. Although I stuck to the pavements and went very slowly. This I will never do again.
