Lemme tell ya: if you've never been mud-skiing down a huge hill of a treeless suburban hell development, flipped over a ten foot wall and landed in more mud, at three in the morning, after seven beers, you haven't lived.
Using the string method (hooray for the army teaching me something useful... like how to use a string) I figured out that I walked 6 miles last night. Did I mention it was raining? Yep, it was pouring, drizzling, raining and then repeating. Did I mention that it was three in the morning and I was terribly lost? Or that I was staggeringly drunk? The only reason that I wasn't at home taking a nice, long, hot shower was that I had to get off the train a few stops early because I thought I was going to be sick. Jeezus, one beer too many and look what happens. One more beer and I'd have probably ended up in Astoria or something. Oh, and did I mention that I was wearing an old, beat up pair of Chucks? Those poor shoes. Five years, six countries, countless punk rock shows...I even smuggled them to Afghanistan just so they'd have a little Afghani dirt on them. I only wore them once there and that was in the middle of the night to use the porta potty 50 feet away from the tent. But they've tread on Afghan ground and that's all that matters.
Ya know what's strange though? Even with all that walking, and I drove to the coast and walked on the beach earlier in the day, I'm not sore at all. My head hurts, as does my jaw (from clenching it while shivering), but I really don't feel like I've walked at all. That's a good sign, I guess. Maybe I'll be able to do the Oregon Coast Trail someday in the near future? Surely, not even *I* could get lost at the beach...
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5 comments:
holy hell sara - you're my hero
amy
I am going to do Bloomsday, the big annual road race that is touted as the largest timed road race in the world, on May 7. It's 7.46 miles long. It's in Spokane, begins at 9AM, which means I have to get up at 4:30 a.m. and drive 90 minutes, park, and walk 2 miles to the starting line, making the trek really an 11.46 mile round trip. I have not even begun to train. I will likely jog parts of it, walk most of it. There is a crushingly steep hill (6%) at mile 5 that is almost a mile long. I will go to Azteca after the 1.75 hour walk/run and drink margaritas till I'm good and buzzed. I will be unable to walk, stand, sit, or even pee for the next four days. I do this every year. Go figure. A week later, I will embark on my trip to the UK.
That sounds awesome Gina!!! Really!!! Especially the margarita part.... I'd be drooling over that the whole race. I once got myself through a 12.5 mile timed ruck march with bleeding feet just thinking about hot coffee and donuts at the finish. Of course, those donuts and coffee turned out to be fictious, but that's what kept me from rolling into a ditch and quitting life.
Oh Sara!
You are going to have such great stories to tell your kids, or if not your kids, you're grandkids. Your allowed to be a prospective bad influence on grandchildren. It's in the book.
If you have neices and nephews, I'm betting they worship you.
I really enjoy your blog. I don't get to reply to every post just - because! But I read them all and you always make me sit up and think...sit up and laugh...sit up and cry...all of that. Great blog.
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