Anyway, for those of you who may not know, I was a band geek in High School. I was in the concert band and the marching band and I even played in the orchestra pit for the school’s musicals. If it was band, I was all about it.

That was until sometime in my junior year. At that point, I enjoyed it enough to finish out my high school career as a band nerd, but I wasn’t as gung-ho. Long gone were my desires of continuing my music career after high school. I was going to put down my saxophone at the end of my senior year and never pick it up again. And that’s just what I did.

My former high school band director, Mr. Snoeck, is currently battling Multiple Sclerosis. Darcie, being a fellow band director herself (she did not stop being a band geek after high school), has stayed close with Mr. Snoeck and they are now colleagues. She wanted to do something for him, so she organized this walk for him and he, along with other people I hadn’t seen since graduating high school in 1995, also showed up.

High school was not the best time of my life. It wasn’t the worst, either. But I didn’t really come into my own and become who I am today until college and the years after. That was when I finally stopped doing the things that I thought I should do, and did the things I wanted to do. I learned what I liked and I did those things. It’s how I ended up working in sports.

So being around all these people from my past was…weird, to say the least. Darcie and I have been friends since puberty, so we will always be friends. If you’re friends with someone that long, it doesn’t just go away. I mean, when I walked in the door of her house she was like “I love that it feels like we saw each other last week, and not like two years ago.” That’s friendship, right there.

But the rest of the people, well, they are all still kind of the same. See, they were already adults and teachers when we were in high school. So they are who they are. And they are into band and music and teaching. And I’m…..not.

I spent most of the walk with one of Darcie’s friends. Because when I had a conversation with one of my old band directors, someone I loved when I was in high school, it was awkward. She asked what I had been up to in the last 15 or so years. I filled her in – Arizona State, 49ers, etc. It was just so forced because I didn’t still play an instrument. I didn’t pursue band after high school. I got as far away from band and music as I could the day I graduated.

And well, that’s where the conversation stopped. I mean, I’m sure there is more we could have discussed. But we don’t have the same interests. And unlike high school me, I didn’t have to be polite and conform and be that band geek. Thirty four year old me wasn’t going to apologize for anything and is damn proud of who she is. So I just walked ahead and found something else to talk about.

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.

I was thinking that I’d really like to run it in Tempe next year. But it was like 100 degrees there this year, so I’m not sure about that. It was 40 here. Quite chilly, in fact, as we all stood around waiting for our race to start and I was glad I wore my jacket. (Although, I wasn’t glad as I started moving around and was a bit too warm with it on.)

There were about 20 people who ran. I was the slowest runner on the trail. I started out at the end of the pack as the real runners took off like rockets. I ran a lot of the race in last place. I really, really didn’t want to finish last, but I really, really didn’t want to overdo it.

So I ran my own pace. I had my phone and listened to the live Nerdist Podcast that I saw the week before. It was a nice refresher since I forgot some of the hilariousness. I wanted to run the whole thing and knew that slow and steady was the way to go.

The race was actually on a path that is right near my house, one that I run on every weekend. A little after mile 1, we hit the turnaround at the northern-most part of the race. About that time, we had a few walkers. I finally was ahead of someone! Yay!

I just kept it going. Kept to my pace. And then people started walking more. And people started running slower. By the time we got to the next turnaround, a bunch of people that had lapped me had finished, but I had also moved ahead of a few people.

I really wanted to walk near the end. But the odd thing was it wasn’t because I was unable to run. It’s completely a mental thing. I wanted to walk because I could. And I felt like it was too much and I was overexerting myself. But I wasn’t. I was fine. So I kept running.

I finished in 42 minutes, according to my GPS. It was also a little shy of 4 miles. BUT! I ran for 42 minutes straight without stopping. FORTY TWO MINUTES! That is a first. I’m super proud of myself and how far I’ve come. I remember when three minutes straight was HARD.

Now that I know I can do it, I hope that helps my brain not always want to walk when we don’t need to. Either that or I’m pretending that every run is a race and I can’t finish last.

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 I would like to preface this by saying thank you to all of you who commented with your podcast recommendations on this post. I wrote them all down and downloaded them post haste.

I first started with Pop My Culture, which is really good. I highly recommend it. I think it got me through my first run of more than six minutes straight and I realized that people talking was the way to get me through running. And seeing as I’m up to running for 30 minutes at a time now, this was a good thing to figure out.

After that one, I was looking for more! There wasn’t a new PMC one yet, so instead of listening to an old one, I figured I’d try one of the other ones you all recommended. I tried This American Life, but Ira Glass’ voice bugs. Also, the subject was about human trafficking and the news clips were in Spanish and then I had to stop listening. I need funny! Snark! Not sad and somber stuff! I’m already sad and somber that I’m RUNNING.

I finally decided to give The Nerdist a try. I think a million of you recommended it, so I knew it would be good. But “nerdist”? Really? I’m not a nerd. I don’t play role playing games. I don’t have Star Wars action figures. I don’t really see how this would be for me.

OH BOY I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG.

I am literally obsessed with Chris Hardwick and this podcast. It is fucking hysterical. I started with the Seth Myers one and then after she told me to go back and listen to the live one with Craig Ferguson, I did just that. And now I’ve gone back to the beginning of Nerdist time and am starting at the very beginning. And burning so many calories with the laughing.

These podcasts are amazing. Also, guess what? I AM a nerd! When one of the first things they mentioned was an internet meme and Twitter, I knew I had found my tribe. You had me at meme, Hardwick. You had me at meme.

The problem with these podcast is that they are hilariously funny. And when you’re walking along a crowded street, or riding a crowded train and you laugh out loud, repeatedly, at something, you get a lot of strange looks. Lately I seem to smile and laugh the hardest when I’m walking past a group of people and I’m pretty sure they think I’m grinning at them like a damn fool. Such is life, though. Such is life.

It also doesn’t hurt that Chris Hardwick is absolutely adorable. And an age-appropriate crush to boot!

Swoooooon.

They are touring the country and after many failed attempts, I finally found someone to go with me to see The Nerdist Podcast Live! with me this Friday. (You’re my hero DJ!) I realized that telling people it was The Nerdist garnered the same reaction I had when I first downloaded the podcast. It’s a comedy show, though! Hilarious! And yes, sometimes they talk about Dr. Who and quadratic equations, but they also make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

I cannot wait to see the show and my future husband live and in person!

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.