I found one, the Merrell Down & Dirty series, and it was this past Sunday. The race was out by my sister’s house and I somehow convinced her and her friend Amy to run with me. (Thank God, because doing that run alone would have made me cry and just fall into a weeping mess on the grassy field.)

It was hot yesterday. Over 90 and super humid. Even early in the morning. I commented at 7 AM that the temp wasn’t too bad, because it was probably in the upper 70s. But our race wasn’t until 9:30.

We got there super early because my sister and her friend needed to pick up their bibs. One very negative thing I will say about this race (and this might be the only negative thing) is that the packet pick-up and race location were nowhere near each other. I drove an hour out of my way to pick up my bib on Saturday, thinking it would save me lots of time on Sunday morning. It did not. The line on Sunday morning was shorter than the one on Saturday.

So basically by about 7:45, we had our packets and had nothing else to do but wait. We sat in the hot, hot sun and just waited until it got closer to 9:30.

I stayed at my sister’s house on Saturday night, which meant I got to spend some time with my niece Maddie, who is starting to realize I’m the funniest person ever. She has the best baby giggle ever!

When I packed my overnight bag, I was super proud of myself for remembering to pack sunblock, knowing this was the first time my winter white skin would be exposed to the sun for any length of time.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, and I realize that I left my sunblock back at my sister’s house. I almost hear my skin sizzling with this realization. Thankfully my sister went into mom mode and decided to find us some. She asked some guy spraying something on himself if we could borrow it, but realized it was athlete’s foot spray and not sunblock. BUT! Athlete’s foot guy told us the Subaru booth had sunblock. And they did! And my skin was saved!

(I totally registered and added my name to every mailing list they had then, because a million emails is worth the fact that I’m not painfully burnt. Thanks Subaru!)

Finally it was close to 9:30. We got in line. We were in the last heat. I didn’t mind since I am a slow runner and I had no clue what to expect. Close to 10 AM, right when it was getting nice and warm and humid and the lovely breeze was dying down, we finally started the race.

Every time I run, I hate the beginning. It makes me hate running and I never understand why I started this stupid hobby in the first place. Add in a trail on not smooth ground, blaring sun, and I was ready, after about 2 minutes, to turn around. I didn’t.

When I told my sister about this race, she was like “OH MY GOD, THE HILLS!!” She knows this farm where the race was held because she used to live right there and go 4-wheeling on it. When she said this my mind thought “it can’t be that bad, I mean we’re in Illinois for Christ’s sake, it isn’t a mountain range.”

We got one mile into the race and there was our first mud puddle and third obstacle. This was a giant fence to climb. I ran most of the first mile. Until my sister pointed out the hills. And then I realized that those were not hills, they were mountains. With inclines steeper than any street in San Francisco.

Do you see it in the background? THIS WAS NOT THE WORST ONE!

This was the second time I wanted to quit.

I jumped in the giant mud puddle, fell on my ass and then climbed the wall. Mud is heavy. And it was only really on one of my shoes and my hands. But I walked up those hills. I thought I was literally going to die or pass out, but I did it. The worst was getting to the top only to realize there was more to climb.

After the second one, my sister took off. She ran when there wasn’t a hill and I did not. I needed to catch my breath. I figured I’d start running again once the hills ended. But it seemed as if they would never end.

We got to some more obstacles – more climbing – and then I ran into my sister’s friend. I decided to walk with her. From there on out, we walked almost the whole rest of the race in between all the obstacles.

There were 11 obstacles in all. They left like four or five until the very end. And they were like some of the hardest. The ones that required upper body strength were the ones I dreaded most. The climbing wall and the slippery rope wall were right near the finish line. I almost fell off both, but I didn’t. I made it up both.

One of the other final ones was a tarp pit filled with mud. I figured, being tall, that it would come up to my knees and I’d walk through it. Oh, hahahahaha! I couldn’t have been more wrong. I did a combo bellyflop/faceplant into this pool of mud. And then couldn’t figure out how to get back up. It seriously had to be one of the funniest things those people had witnessed all day.

I figured it out, got out of there, ran to the last mud pit and leisurely doggy paddled my way to the finish line. (I kind of forgot it was timed and do you know what is refreshing on a 95 degree day after running 3 miles and doing 10 obstacles? A giant pool of mud. No lie.) (Although, I’ve never been that dirty in my life. There was mud where mud shouldn’t be. It was squishy in my squishy parts.)

It took me one hour and one minute. I’m not proud of my time. I wanted to do better. I want to be able to run in the heat and humidity. My goal is to really train this summer to get myself used to it. I don’t want to be such a wuss again.

But my sister! I’m so proud of my sister, you guys! She had back surgery like a year ago. And she just started running like two months ago when we signed up for this race. And she not only finished, she rocked it and finished ahead of me by like seven minutes. And now she’s hooked and wants to do more races and more mud runs! I’m so proud of her! She did so good!

Overall, it was actually really fun! I’m excited to do another one in July with my SIL and hopefully my sister. And I’m excited to get into training mode and teach my body to deal with this heat and humidity like a normal person.

This race has to be one of the harder mud runs, especially with those hills. The people in charge of the obstacles are all Marines and they don’t let you quit. There is no skipping the obstacles and running around the climbing wall. And they don’t mess around with those obstacles. I didn’t think I could do it. I really didn’t. And I am really glad that I did. And that I have the bruises (and SORENESS, OMG!) to show for it.

So after about 17 of these drinks, we decided it was time to go home. We are old and we both needed to get sleep. Little did we know how very potent these drinks were and how very hungover we would spend all of Sunday.

We hopped in a cab and shared it up north, since we don’t live too far from each other. We told the driver that we were heading north to Irving. I paid attention, since there was a shit ton of traffic on the Ontario feeder ramp, and I wanted to see if it was an accident. It wasn’t, so Jess and I checked our phones and chatted.

About 20 minutes later I happened to look up to see where we were. I noticed that we were passing the White Sox stadium and were on the Dan Ryan, south of 35th Street. In the exact opposite direction of where we needed to go.

I yelled at the cab driver to turn around, that he was going totally the wrong way, and that we were not paying for this cab ride. I was pissed. I mean, Irving is a MAJOR street. Even if you may not have known the cross street, you, as a Chicago cab driver, should know that Irving is north of the Loop. I think my suburbanite brother and sister both even know this.

He finally got us close to where we needed to be and we got out. I flat out refused to pay. We were literally in the car for an hour. For a 10 mile drive. After midnight.

We started walking to an intersection so that I could catch yet another cab to my house, since we were near Jess’s house. What we weren’t expecting was the cab driver to get out of his cab, leaving it running in the street, to chase us down for money. I then drunkenly lambasted him in the middle of the street that we were not paying for his lack of knowledge and our unfortunate jaunt to the South Side.

Then he threatened to call the police. And since we were both shitfaced and wanting to get far, far away from this man, we paid him like $10 and made him leave. Which he did, thankfully.

My next cab driver was much nicer and knew where he was going. He also told me we shouldn’t have run off without paying, since he did take us to where we needed to go. And I’m like “yeah, except he was probably planning to originally take us to some ditch outside the city near Indiana to kill us, so I didn’t really want to pay for that.”

It appears I am no longer the cab driver whisperer. But I would like more of those delicious drinks.

I’ve seen Jersey Boys before, but this was a new cast. I didn’t like this cast as much as our first cast, but the show is amazing. If you’ve never seen it, go. The music is awesome, and it is such an interesting story about the Four Seasons.

After the show, we all went to Wildfire for dinner. After dinner we walked down the street to have a drink. I stayed the latest with my SIL, who was waiting for her 8:30 train. After we finished our drinks, we took a cab over to Union Station. We were way early for her train, so I suggested we sit in the train station bar and have another drink.

I found a seat at the bar while she went to check to see if Jamba Juice was open. It wasn’t. So I drank by myself and she kept me company until her train was getting ready to leave.

While we were sitting there, an old man with half his teeth missing decided to listen in on all our conversations and then drunkenly give us advice about us and women in general. None of it made sense. I’m pretty sure the dude had been sitting at that bar since it opened. That was a lot of drunkity speak for 8 PM on a Saturday.

Kim left to catch her train and I sat and finished my beer. Cletus the slackjawed yokel had enough of me ignoring him, and he left. And so a dude with camouflage bags took his seat. I asked him where he was coming back from (Afghanistan), how long he had been deployed (three years!) and then thanked him for his service and bought him a beer.

I don’t know what his deal was, but he was also completely shitfaced. And he basically propositioned me to have sex in the train station bathroom. I don’t know if I love America that much, sir.

Thankfully, the bar was closing and I could try and ditch him. But I also had a beer to finish and didn’t want to waste it. So I did what every other SANE person does in a train station at 8:30 on a Saturday night, I chatted up a strange man eating a hamburger to distract the drunk soldier.

I told him the deal with drunk Army man and that if he could pretend like we knew each other until drunk Army guy left, it would be much appreciated it. He was happy to oblige. And we had a very nice conversation while he finished his dinner and waited for his train back to upstate New York. And then before he left for his train, we became friends on Facebook. Because that’s totally what you do in that situation, right?

And then I got in a cab, chatted up my cab driver and went home and passed out on the couch.

My life: The stuff reality television is made of.

So what’s new, internet?

Not much is new here. Which is why I haven’t posted. Because while I could write yet another post about running and eating better, I’ve been really slacking lately. So much so that I had to come up with a real present for April to get my ass to the gym 14 days this month. And as it is, I’m really going to have to work for that present. This month will be a Roku! If anything will get me to work out, it’s some sort of added way for me to be able to watch TV. No more watching streaming things on my computer!

I went to see the Nerdist Live last Friday. I got there late because I went out for beers after work before the show with my sister Alix and her boyfriend. And drinking 8% alcohol beers on an empty stomach is always a good idea. But we had a fun time, which was why I was late.

But we only missed a small bit of Matt Mira’s performance and saw the whole rest of the show. It was absolutely hilarious. If you ever have the option to see it, or even any of those dudes do stand-up live, GO DO IT NOW. They are some funny motherfuckers. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time!

We didn’t wait around after the show to meet the boys, since the line was insane and I was drunk and we were both hungry. I will have to seduce Chris Hardwick some other time. Some other time…

After the show we went across the street to grab some food at the grilled cheese restaurant. There I had the most amazing sandwich – grilled cheese with chorizo and jalapenos. I’m still thinking about it. It was so yummy.

On Saturday morning, I drove up to Milwaukee to visit her and her family. It was the end of Passover, so I drove up to visit, eat matzah, play Catan and make a million melty bead creations. And really, minus the matzah, it was like any other time I get to hang out with the Martells, AKA always awesome!

I have zero patience for melty beads. I have ideas of how to make it cute, but then three seconds of having to dig through a giant bucket of beads that have 17 different shades of blue and I’m done. I’ll use the first bead I pull out of the tub and call it a day. I have so much admiration for Ali and her kids, who will painstakingly search for all the golds to make a cute peace sign. Or even something that matches.

It’s why my creations end up like this ugly monkey:

As an added bonus, the Martells flew out of Chicago on Monday and I got to meet them for lunch before they flew back to Canadia. I had taken the day off to get all my errands done anyway, so it worked out perfectly. We went to a Kosher diner near my house that had a really amazing burger. I really wanted cheese on it and well, then remembered I was at a Kosher diner. Dairy and meat, no mixy, mixy.

After that, I went home, went grocery shopping and then came home and took a nap at 5 PM. This was the least smart thing I had done. It was the opposite of my brilliant decision to get a chorizo grilled cheese. Yep, still thinking about that sammich.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep on Monday night. That led to me being super sleepy all day Tuesday, falling asleep on the train both to and from work, and walking around half the day with my pants zipper down.

So I went to bed at 9 last night. Skipped my run and everything. Which means my 4.2-mile race this weekend is going to be interesting.

But it’s for a good cause.

I was lucky enough to meet Pat Tillman when we were both at ASU and was honored that the Cardinals organization asked me to help work his memorial in San Jose after he was tragically killed. I’m glad to be taking part in the Chicago race this year and am planning to make it to Tempe next year.

I mean, it was a pain when I had to get a new debit card when it became Chase and had to change all my automatic payments. But I forgave them. And then like a year later, they changed the card from MasterCard to Visa and I had to do EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN!

When that happened, I said “you know what, self? Why don’t we make all these payments through your checking account. That won’t change, unless you change banks. You won’t have to go through this again! You are a genius, self.”

Oh hahahahahaha past self, how wrong you were.

Last week I got a letter from Chase that my routing number was changing. Not my checking account number, just the routing number. So all those accounts I changed, to outsmart the fucking bankers at Chase, had to be re-done. It’s a giant pain in the ass. Most of them can be semi-easily changed online. It’s time-consuming, but at least I didn’t have to talk to anyone.

That is, until today.

My student load company is apparently stuck in 1997 and the only way to change the routing number is to call, or send in another voided check. Being lazy and cheap and not wanting to go through that, I decided to call them. How hard could it be?

Oh, hahahahahahahaha past self, you will eat those words smothered in cream cheese.

Mmmmmmmm, cream cheese.

Anyway, here is how the conversation went:

Me: I need to change my routing number.

Her: Can you hold on two minutes?

Me: Sure.

*two minutes passes*

Her: Hi, OK. Thank you for holding. How can I help you?

Me: I need to change my routing number.

Her: OK. What is the new routing number?

Me: 127000023

Her: OK, let me verify, that was 1200000073.

Me: No, 127000023.

Her: Right, 12000000003.

Me: No, ONE TWO SEVEN…

Her: Right, that’s what I said, 127000023.

And then my head exploded.

First there was the fact that I was up, wide awake at 4 AM dying of thirst. This was to be blamed on the many pints of beer and glasses of wine I consumed on Tuesday night while out with a friend.

I know better than to drink on school nights. I know that it fills my night with restless sleep and usually panic attacks over the lack of being able to sleep. It doesn’t matter if I have one drink or 20.

When my alarm went off, I did what I do every day – I turned it off and then reset the alarm for 30 minutes later.

Well, at least that was what I thought I did.

Apparently I shut off the alarm and then reset the clock 30 minutes ahead.

Fast forward 20 minutes to see me losing my shit because I thought it was 7:30 and I was running super late and no one likes to be jolted out of bed. And also, why didn’t the alarm go off?

I looked at my phone and it said it was like 6:45. I didn’t believe my phone. I rationally assumed my manually set alarm clock was correct and my cell phone was wrong and the world’s clock was off!

So here I am, half asleep, exhausted, pushing buttons on the alarm and my phone, then checking the clock on the Fitbit just to figure out what damn time it was. There was a lot of nonsensical speech and arms flailing until I got my wits about me, some five minutes later.

It’s a good thing I am not in charge of taking care of human lives since I’m dumbfounded by the workings of a clock and how to tell time.

And as an added bonus, I give you the world’s least unflattering photo of someone running. Caption: “Kill me now!”

Caption that, friends.

You’re welcome.

I’ve done this race once before. That time was on even less training. But I was also five years younger. This time around I had made it to the end of the Couch to 5k program and had run a solid 30 minutes straight. Too bad the Shamrock Shuffle is 8k. Which is an additional 3k. Or almost 2 more miles!

I was super nervous. I’m not sure why. Nothing was riding on it except my pride. I knew that if I walked, it would not be the end of the world and even if I walked the whole thing, I would still finish in the allotted time and not be kicked off the course.

But something about having to walk when you’re running it such a mental sucker punch. Mentally it makes me feel like such a failure. Forget the fact that I’m RUNNING. And I am running for many minutes in a row, something I couldn’t do eight weeks ago. It doesn’t matter because mentally it feels like someone kicked my dog.

I ran with Katie and tried to warn her that I run slowly. Despite my long legs, I have a very short running stride. Taking longer strides fucks with my mind and my breathing. Running: A constant mindfuck since the dawn of upright humans!

Katie is the same height as me and also has very long legs. She does not, though, have a short running stride. She’s also run a half marathon and is much more experienced runner than couch-to-5k me.

We moved closer to the end of the 40,000 runners at the start line. I think we hit the start line over an hour after the race had begun. Before we even hit the starting line, the elite runners were already done and on their third banana.

Katie started off like a rocket. Because she is tall, with a long stride and hates crowds. I too hate crowds, but cannot run fast to save my life. I don’t think it would be possible even if a zombie was chasing me.

I tried to keep up and I slowed her a little, but I think our first mile was a nine-minute mile. Considering I had been running 12-minute miles, I was about ready to quit after the first mile. But I didn’t.

I did walk sooner than I wanted. And regretted not going pee and drinking that second bottle of water before the race. That water and the RUNNING SO FAST gave me a side stitch and made me want to vomit for basically the rest of the race.

We slowed it down quite a bit, but I still had a few sessions of walking as the race went on. And then the sun started scorching me and I realized long, black yoga pants were not a good call, and basically, I wanted to die.

Katie had enough of me during the last half-mile and blew past me and everyone else and met me at the finish line.

The Shuffle is evil and it makes you run up this hill on Roosevelt with like a third of a mile left. You can see the finish line, but you also want to stab a kitten because HILLS! AT THE END! And that SUN! SO HOT! FUCK YOU ALL IN THE EYE!

I ended up walking up part of the hill, but I ran the rest of the way and then all the way to the finish. I tried to sprint through the finish line, but it wasn’t possible. Maybe, had the reward been a fucking TV, I would have sprinted, but I just jogged as best I could.

And I finished! And I would say I ran like 90 percent of it. I tried to make my walking breaks short. My time was under an hour, which was a faster pace than I had been doing – under a 12-minute mile. (And faster than 5 years ago!) Thanks to Katie for keeping me company and pushing me!

All in all, it was a great day. And I’m proud of myself of doing it. And now I’ve signed up for another race in April and will be starting the Bridge to 10k program next week.

So I guess I’m a runner now and not just a “runner”.

He looks innocent enough and he’s a very loving cat and I’ve never met one person who doesn’t immediately fall in love with this cat. He LOVES people. And if you pet him and let him sit on your lap? You’ll be his friend forever.

I, on the other hand, am not his favorite. Yes, I feed him and pet him and give him treats, but I hate having him on my lap. Because he doesn’t sit on your lap, he has to lay on your whole person. And well, it’s annoying.

So he retaliates. In cat-like fashion. He pukes on my pillow or in my shoe. Or most recently, on my library book. He scratches the shit out of things. He drags is poopy ass on the carpet. He gives me the evil eye.

And now? Now he’s trying to kill me.

In the morning right before I’m getting ready to leave, I sit on the edge of the bed and put my commuting shoes on. Usually it’s my tennis shoes, since we haven’t had much of a winter and I wore my new snow boots twice.

It’s become part of our routine where I tie the shoes and fling the laces and he chases them and then attacks my shoes.

Usually I’m too quick on the draw and tie them before he can really play. But apparently one day, I wasn’t paying enough attention and he thought he’d show me who was boss.

After our little game, I got my stuff and got set to leave the house. As far as I knew, since I had just put them on, my shoes were tied tight. They were set to make my daily commute to the office.

So I put on my coat, locked the front door and headed down the stairs in the building to the outside. As I was jogging down the stairs, since I was late for the bus as per usual, I tripped and almost tumbled down the whole flight. Thank you, railing, for allowing me to catch myself and not land on my face.

(I know I’m clumsy, but I can usually make it down two flights of stairs in the morning without any mishaps.)

I looked down at my shoe – UNTIED! The damn cat put his claw into the lace and loosened it just enough so that I would trip down the stairs. This is no way to treat the human that feeds you!

It’s a good thing he’s cute.

I’m skeptical, but we’ll see.

I have an 8k, which is almost 5 miles, on Sunday, March 25. I’m hoping to do as well as I did the last time I ran it in 2007. That time I walked through the water station and for another block or so. That was it. I ran the whole rest of the race.

This year a bunch of other Chicago bloggers are running it too. And I convinced them all to buy this shirt so we can all run together:

I’m looking forward to it!

I’m still running indoors on the treadmill at this point. This is good for me to force me into a steady pace and not run too fast. The problem is the treadmill is SO BORING.

I’ve tried music. I’ve tried every type of music. I’ve tried pop, hip hop, dance, 80s, you name it. But I have adult onset ADD. (Thanks Twitter!) I can listen to something for about 30 seconds before I’m bored and all I’m focusing on is the clock and “how do I still have four whole minutes of running? I HAVE BEEN RUNNING FOREVER!”

TV would be a good solution, but I can’t do Netflix and the running app at the same time. And live TV has commercials. And you know what, when you know a commercial is 30 seconds long, that doesn’t help the whole “make the clock move faster” thing any better.

This week I tried a new approach – podcasts. I downloaded one of the Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me podcasts from NPR. That seemed to help. (It also helped that as I was listening to it, Gossip Girl was on the TV and Blair and Dan KISSED! SQUEEEEEEE!)

But I’m looking for more suggestions for podcasts. There are so many out there and I don’t know where to start. I know Ricky Gervais has some, and I’ll definitely be checking those out. But what other entertaining podcasts are out there? And by entertaining, I mean DISTRACTING. FROM THE RUNNING.

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Guess what? Tonight was workout #20 and I got it in just under the wire! I p0wned my goal and I have a lovely Fitbit on the way to show for it. (I cheated and ordered it on Monday because I wanted to have it by this weekend so I could play with it.) (And even after ordering it, I still worked out three times this week so far. Yay me!)

I’m so happy I made this goal. I think I’ve finally gotten into the habit of going to the gym. And not hating it. AND! It’s starting to finally show on the scale, which is nice. Nothing major, but I actually lost weight this week, as opposed to staying the same or gaining, like I have been the last month or so.

And! I took measurements and I’m down at least an inch in all the areas. My pants are fitting better and I’m feeling less and less like a stuffed sausage these days. So YAY!

I decided that the prize when I complete my next goal is going to be someone to come in and clean my house. Because that’s a TREAT! And I’ll have to clean it before they come, which will also be a treat for my poor house that is filthy. (I can keep up on dishes, laundry and keeping the cats alive. I seem to draw the line at vacuuming.)

Other than that, the reason I haven’t posted here lately is partly because it would be all about my working out, which who cares?, and also because I have no time. Working out takes up a lot of time, yo. Who knew? It explains why I could easily decide not to go to the gym in the past. Also? My couch is still comfy.

Back this time last year when I was working out rather regularly, or more than no times a week, it was when I had my old job. That old job was a 30 minute commute. And I had to drive past the gym on the way home. It was a win-win.

Now I take the bus and the train. I don’t mind not sitting in traffic, but it also takes me an hour-plus to get to and from work. So by the time I get home in the evenings, it’s close to 7. I come home, drop off my work bag, feed the cats, change and then leave for the gym.

By the time I get to the gym, do my workout and stretch and all that good stuff, I’m not usually home until after 8. And then I have to get dinner ready, get my breathing back to normal, etc. And lately that means finishing dinner at 9 PM. Which isn’t the best thing, especially if I’m super tired and would like to get to bed before 11 PM. Which doesn’t happen anymore.

So, in the hour or so I have to myself in the evening, I’m watching TV or doing dishes or just other random things. And these things do not include being on the computer. I just can’t. It feels like my only time during the day that I have to unwind and just veg out.

I would like to post more. I’m thinking of typing up notes for a post on my phone, or using my lunch break to write something. Then all I have to do when I get home is post it. That still leaves plenty of TV watching and couch sitting for the evenings then.

But we’ll see how that goes. TV always wins. Which isn’t surprising since the title of this post comes from a kid’s cartoon.