SarahWurrey.com

So I know all I ever talk about anymore is running and the marathon and such. My friend Dan informed me that my self-deprecating posts about how crap I am at this undertaking are “not as funny as [I] think they are.” (Thanks, DAN! Appreciate the feedback! Have you met my friend, Mr. Suckitdan, yet?)

But this is…pretty much all that’s going on in my life lately that doesn’t involve cats (already widely covered), work (not something I really blog much about), or beer (and that’s happening less and less what with me actually doing exercises that are not “lift drink to mouth, repeat”). And it’s my blog, so if you gotta problem with that, I would like to politely introduce you to a little something I call “The Hand,” and urge you to converse with it.

Ahem. Anyway…

Week four was pure crap. It marked the first time I didn’t cop out on any of the runs or workouts (yay!), but also the first time I really started wondering whether or not I can actually do this thing. I was tired. I walked most of my mileage, bitching all the while, and had some major heat issues on my long run that left my head dizzy and my hands sausage-esque.

My sister also informed me this week that if you can’t make it across a bridge at Mile 19 by a certain time, they re-open the bridge to traffic and you have to take a humiliating “Losers Shuttle” back, effectively forfieting the rest of the race. My new goal, aside from just “finishing alive,” is to not end up riding the Fatty Bus back to Loserville.

So all in all, a demoralizing week. Saturday, I went out on the Mt. Vernon trail to do the four miles round trip up to Reagan Airport and back. It’s a beautiful trail, not very hilly, I can see it being really enjoyable to those who aren’t in danger of keeling over and dying on the ground alongside it, unlike me.

The worst part was the entire second mile, when I was trailing a family out for a pleasure walk. They were flip-flopped tourists, strolling along, carrying shopping bags, conversing. I was behind them, and could not. catch. the eff. UP. No matter how much I gasped or how hard I tried to add a little actual “power” to my power-walking (having abandoned jogging after the first half mile, during which I lost more fluids in the 90 degree heat than that gross guy with the armpit sprinklers in the new Axe deodorant ads). Just a bit unsettling, particularly since they kept looking over their shoulders at me, no doubt confused as to why the drenched tomato making all the racket with the huffing and the groaning couldn’t just pass them already. Eventually they stopped to take pictures, which I interpreted as a pity move. “Let’s just pretend to take a picture so the sweaty dying girl can get by us…cheeeese!”

Then, there’s nutrition. Sigh.

The good news is, I’m officially pissed. The bad news is, after heading to Maine and New Hampshire to visit friends and attend a wedding last weekend, consuming along the way approximately my weight in fried foods and drinks, I managed to lose exactly 0 weight last week. The cheerful lady at Weigth Watchers assured me this was a GOOD thing, as I had babbled to her all my excuses prior to getting on the scale, and I’m sure that running actually did stave off a massive uptick in LB’s….but damnit. i kind of thought I’d get off the hook. This is the most I’ve exercised in months, I can’t have one bad weekend of booze and junk-food consumption without punishment?

I am now ranking my metabolism somewhere in the vicinity of my Mr. Suckitdan, in terms of affecting the mood of this update. So, onto the Facts n Figures:

Week 4 of this Godforsaken Why Did I Do This And Where’s the Emergency Exit Training:

Day 1: Rest
Day 2: 2 miles, 29:50, walk/jog, hurt like a sonofabitch.
Day 3: 2 miles, 30:30, walk/jog, followed up with Jillian Michael’s Shred, which coincidentally? Also hurt like a sonofabitch.
Day 4: Rest (swapped out the rest day this week)
Day 5: 2.3 miles, 35:00, walked all of it, and not much different than my walk/jog pace, interestingly. Also did 20 minutes of hills training on staitionary bike, which was a LOT harder than I thought it’d be)
Day 6: Cross day, got up early to do the Shred before work. Decided Jillian can also suck it, along with Dan.
Day 7: 4 miles, a billion hours, as I had to walk the last mile at around the pace of a paralyzed snail, so as not to, you know, actually die, as opposed to just making jokes about same repeatedly to torment Dan. Must, must, must start doing long runs early in the morning–the 90 degree weather absolutely destroyed me, and my hands swelled up to the size of catcher’s mitts. Also got a bit lightheaded. Very bad day.

Weight: 100 lbs (see previous entry for explanation on this entirely fictional starting weight!). That’s right, after getting all fired up, I lost NO weight. How embarassing. But this week has gone much better on nutrition, except for some missteps this weekend and maybe a bit too much to drink a couple times. Memorial Day weekend during week 2 of a new nutrition plan? Is balls.

(New Mantra: Next week will be better, you will not end up on the Fatty Bus to Loserville, you will not actually die on the side of the Mt. Vernon Trail and end up a bloated corpse floating around in the Potomac and frightening the tourists on the water taxi…you will NOT.)

“American Idol” was fairly “meh” tonight…has been for quite some time, as a matter of fact. I think that after 8 seasons, there’s just not much new under the sun, you know? Sure, Adam Lambert is pretty talented and he shrieks to the high heavens and wears eyeliner and is edgy and beautiful and such…but it’s all so…calculating.

After it was over, I watched “Glee,” and I am completely, totally, over the moon in love with this show. After just one episode. It is cheesy and funny and silly and poignant, and a completely good time. I smiled throughout. I think they’ll have the episode on Fox.com until the rest of them start up in the fall.

Though I guess if you don’t share my hopeless love for all things a capella…

I found this map online.

Damn you, Google.

To give you some perspective, so far the longest distance I’ve run in this pathetic and surely doomed to failure endeavor of “hauling my fat ass across 26.2 miles” is just over 3 miles. That is, if you look at the map, the distance around East Potomac Park and Hain’s Point. This will be, if this map remains the general route, around miles 17-20 of my alleged marathon.

Generally speaking, when I finish that particular loop, I collapse in a gasping heap as my calf muscles and shins enter what I’ve come to affectionately know as the “53 minutes of painful spasms followed by 42 of light yet equally painful twitching” phase. After. Three. Miles.

And yet, I will persevere. Even I have to admit, as proud as I am so far for sticking to the training schedule, collapsing in that heap at only mile 3 would be truly pathetic, and unworthy of a Sugarbaker woman.

Week Three Observations:

Mmmm, cheesy poofs.

1) I am so. Freaking. Hungry!!!

Hungry. Gimme gimme gimme. I could eat my cat right now, with the right sauce. And yet my charming coach berates politely informs me repeatedly that I can’t actually eat my cat, and yours. Not only that, she’s insisting I join Weight Watchers or some other form of organized nutrition tracking group in order to make sure I eat a balanced diet in the coming weeks.

Now, dropping some weight would certainly make this process easier–but considering “hungry” is my default state even when the only exercise I’m getting is walking to the door to let in the pizza guy, I have a feeling that this is going to be…challenging. Freaking hell–why am I doing this again?

Starting weight: 100 pounds
What, you thought I was going to put the real number on here? Nope, we’re starting at 100–The fact that I have not actually weighed 100 pounds since….fifth grade? Is irrelevant. Just try not to be disturbed when I give my Week 20 updates and claim to weigh only 23 pounds.

2) My Buddy and Me: FAIL

I have yet to run with a buddy until yesterday, when my friend Jen and I hit up the cross country trails at our old high school in rainy Trashua Nashua, NH. The good news is that I seem to have developed a breathing rhythm that works for me (gasp gasp puff, gasp gasp puff….sounding something like a hog in labor, I’m sure). The bad news is that I’m pretty sure Jen was wondering what I’ve been talking about with all this “running” business for the past few weeks. She kept insisting that we were running at same pace she might do herself if she were alone…and yet I couldn’t help noticing that our conversations went something like this:

Jen: Wow, check out that creepy guy with the homemade fishing pole, omg, he has a porn stache! Do you think he’s going to murder us? Do you think it’s even safe for us to run here?
Me: (gasp gasp puff) yeah (gasp gasp puff) he (gasp gasp puff) is pretty (cough gasp cough) creepy.
Jen: Are you okay? Hey look, those guys have a paddle boat! Do you think they’re actually catching fish? I don’t think I could actually eat fish from this river, it looks pretty nastifying, hmm, maybe I want to eat some potato salad after this, and what time do you think we should go out tonight?
Me: Um…. (gasp choke cough wheeze) I….can’t…(wheeze) talk (gasp gasp puff).

3) Drinking is bad, m’kay?

Friday night my dear friend Jenny was getting married in Maine. I will not disclose fully all I had to drink that night, but will admit that the night ended at around 230 in the morning with two White Russians. Yeah milk and vodka (and various other adult beverages) mixing around in mah belleh! We’re going to shake shake shake you up tomorrow! Get some rest! This is probably why Jen also might have wondered what I’ve been talking about with all this “running” business when I made her stop to walk with me every quarter mile or so. If by “walk” you mean “dry heave”.

All in all, a great week! Here’s the official update, with all times are estimates becuase I left my spreadsheet at the office.

Week Three Training Update, the Dry Heave Edition

Sunday: Rest, aaah.
Monday: 2 miles, 28 min (I think? I remember being happy I finished before my laundry was done, and the washing machine cycle is 28 min! I’m sticking to it!)
Tuesday: 2 miles, 31 minutes (this was the night I went in Old Town, and was harrassed by a gaggle of street youths who seemed impressed at just how hard boobs can bounce when a woman is barely even running)
Wednesday: 2 miles, 32 minutes (this was my morning run, which turned into a walk because I honestly thought I might barf)
Thursday: Blessedly, a rest day
Friday: Cross training, I was forced to count the 30 min or so of booty shaking I did at the wedding as such. I did get out of breath. Whatever, I’m counting it. I also did a few dozen “arm lifts” to my pie hole as I shoved it full of cake and beer and White Russians.
Saturday: 3 to 3.5 or so miles (not actually sure, because apparently the mile markers at Mines Falls Park in Nashua…don’t exist. What’s that all about??) 50 min. 55 if you count dry heave breaks.

Weight: 100 pounds
Weight loss/gain: I’ll let you know at the next update. I’m thinking after the weekend, it’s +28 or so–there was a fried pickles incident.

Things I Have Learned After Two Weeks of Training for the Marine Corps Marathon:

1) Running is hard.

2) What I do…not so much “running.” I think the medical term for it is “staggering,” or perhaps “limping feebly at a varied, but always slow, pace.” Or maybe “self induced coronary” is the best way to put it. But running? No.

Not yet, anyway.

Week 2 was good. Almost good. GREAT…except for that one thing. I didn’t do my “long” run (in quotes again because I am still in very, very low mileage phase of this 6 month plan) on Saturday. Sigh. Everything was going great, I even did more mileage than Brookie Cookie mapped out for me on two of the days, and did an actual cross training day (tae bo) rather than last week’s “crossing champers with margaritas at happy hour” effort, but then Saturday came along, and with it came:

A 1 year-old’s birthday party.
Cupcakes.
Burrs. (Or “beers”, as the normal folks say.)
A girlfriend breaking up with her man and calling for wine drinking.

When weighing “wine drinking with girlfriends and man bashing while basking in the sunshine on a patio” with “limping out a hideously slow couple of miles in the disgusting 90 degree weather”…well. I am weak. Man-bashing is a calorie burner, right? I’ll count a mile for every time we said “he’s an IDIOT.” That’s…like 85 miles. Sweet!

THIS week I have a wedding on Friday night. But I will get my run in the next day, hangover be damned. I will, of course, warn the highway patrol in New Hampshire that if they see a beet red portly lady on the side of the road dry heaving, do not pick her up until she finishes the fricking 3 miles.

Training Update (Week 2):

Sunday: Rest, as it should be
Monday: 2 miles, 30 min walk/jog
Tuesday: 2 miles, 30:06 walk/jog
Wednesday: 1.4 miles, 22 min, walk
Thursday: Rest
Friday: 30 min Tae Bo
Saturday: FAIL! (Mmmmm, wine)

Driving a Duck Boat

I have admit, while I am much happier in DC, I miss living in the same state as my mom. Back home I had easy access to lunches and shopping and manicures and mojitos whenever I wanted. My mom is in her late 50s, but probably still one of the coolest chicks to hang out with.

Even if she does give me a hard time about my domestic failings, she manages to refrain from giving me a hard time about just about everything else that’s wrong with my big, dumb, life. And for that, I am grateful. She’s also totally trendy, loves Coach bags and highlights and fun shoes, tries to like the movies I recommend, and can hold her own drinking beers and playing cards until 2 am. She’s the coolest.

I’m not really into shmoopy sentiments, and frankly neither is she–a true Mainer, after all. And so I’ll just say Happy Mother’s Day, to Brenda (aka Mean Mouse), the coolest mom ever. And probably the best shoe shopping/mojito drinking partner I could ask for.

A week ago I adopted a new kitten, Jacoby, and he is basically the most defective kitten in all the land–and also the most disgusting. We’re apparently perfect for each other.

He went into the hospital 2 days after I brought him home, with an upper respiratory infection. His eyes were crusted over, he sneezed out large quantities of snot and/or blood, and he had to breathe through his mouth, which caused most excellent and near constant strings of gooey drool to form on the corners of his mouth. Sweet!

He got out of the hospital a new kitty, all cured up and fine. Then developed quite a beer gut. Being my cat, I took this in stride. Like owner like kitty, right?

Pass the nachos. (Belch!)

Turns out that a Buddha Belly on a kitten usually means one thing: worms. My father’s scientific name for this phenomenon in my childhood cat was “Worm Butt.” The vet was able to mostly confirm Jacoby’s worm-butt status today, and instructed me to collect a “fresh sample” for testing. He sent me home with a “sample collection kit” (read: shit bottle).

You know who has been in perfect health from the moment I brought her home? Chloe. I feel that I should never complain about her occasional barf piles ever again, even when I step in a nice gooey one with bare feet upon getting out of bed in the morning, becuase Jack has cost me more in vet bills in ONE WEEK than Chloe has in two years.

I assume I will be receiving noms for this accomplishment?

So, in a bizarre combination of motivation and spite, I decided to sign up for the Marine Corps Marathon. Which means I have just under 6 months to get in shape enough to be able to do it. This…is clearly a mistake.

“But Sarah,” you say. “Running is so good for you! You’re going to love it!”

“But no,” I point out. “Running makes your toenails fall out, your joints grind together, something called ’shin splints’ that sounds like something they did to Mel Gibson towards the end of ‘Braveheart,’ and I hear that some running people lose bowel control. At least that’s an accident, I also hear that others pee on themselves. On Purpose.”

“Yes but think how thin you’ll get!”

“Have you met my metabolism? Watch, I’ll take up running, and actually gain weight.”

But, I’m doing it. Why?

1) I already paid for it. And it was a hundred dollars; hate to waste a hundred dollars. Even so, I will now list for you the things I would rather spend one hundred dollars on:

* 100 bags of Skittles
* 20 beers at Stardust
* These Burberry Rain Boots
* 30 Dunkin iced coffees
* Wait, why are all these food-related?
* Half an iPhone

2) My ex-boyfriend is doing it. He would never run with me when we were together. Team Spite!

3) My sister already signed up for it, and will literally kick my ass if I back out. She’s buying plane tickets.

Shin splints, a’hoy.

And yes, this is why I quit smoking. Oh, smoking. (Sniff.)

Week One ended yesterday, and is brought to you by the letter “E”. For “Excuses, excuses.”

Week One Training Update:

My sister-designed training program involves mostly walking for the first four weeks, and mostly really short distances to start out with. This way, I won’t just say “yeah…no.”

Sunday: Rest day
Monday: 1.5 miles in 23 min (walk)
Tuesday: E is for Excuse! Twisted my ankle, and it was blue and puffy, so I sat on my lazy butt instead of doing my obligatory mile.
Wednesday: 2 miles in 33 minutes (walk)
Thursday: Rest day
Friday: Cross training day. Which I did, only if you count “crossing” champagne with beer and margaritas. Damn you, alcohol, you vile temptress!
Saturday: Long run day! Did 3 miles in 45 minutes (walk/jog)

All in all, not a stellar week, since I wimped out on training twice. But my twisted ankle is better, my allergies that also left me feeling decidedly poo-esque have abated with the pollen-drenching rain, and I’m fairly proud that I did the jog/walk combo for the 3 miles, in a time that doesn’t make me totally embarassed.