The Yuengling Shamrock Half!

It was difficult at times.  If it wasn't, everybody would run one.  But it was also super fun. Otherwise, no one would run one.  Der.  Pre-race, I was gearing for a 2:30-2:35 mark.  Hitting under 2:30 would be incredibly stellar.  But clocking in at 2:33...still freakin' sweet.


And the crazy part.  We want to do more.


So while I wanted to take video mid-run, giving updates on the miles, I was a bit preoccupied with not barfing at 6.5 miles after trying a "Gu," passing 10 miles on a steady pace, and getting through miles 11-12.  I was very happy to see the Finish Line.  So was my liver.

But I instead put together this video with some of the clips I was able to take.  And yes, this is not a Martin Scorsese picture.  This is a Ging picture.  With plenty of room to grow. Hopefully.  Because I have more races to run!

These shirts are awesome.  We can only agree.

 Look at that grimace.

Check out our medals!

Rehydrating.  Very important.

 This is me.  Very happy to be done.

The Running Bug Has Bit Us...

I once read that a Half Marathon was not what your first race should be.

Well they can suck it, because we had a blast.  And we've already looked at potential next races.  Sick?  Maybe.  Energized for more?  Definitely.


I'm working on a video montage to come.

13 things learned on 13 miles.

1.)  It'll be cold on race mornings.  Now you know to wrap yourself in trash bags.  These are a cheap fix that you won't mind ditching 1.5 miles into the race.


2.) Write a letter to Pepto Bismol saying how much you enjoy popping 2 tabs before a Half Marathon.  Not only do they save you from having to use the port-a-potties mid-race, but you miss out on the post-race "issues" that plague others.


3.) A mild sunburn on your left shin is a welcome war wound from trudging through 13 miles for 3 freakin' beers on the amazing beach of Virginia. Yes, I just said that.  Oregon's coast are great for Goonies re-creations.  Not really lounging with your bestest enjoying your recent athletic endeavor.


4.) I definitely thanked every volunteer who handed me water.  They deserved it.  They didn't have to be there.  I'll return the favor soon.


5.) Running "gu's" are disgusting.  It tasted like bile in my mouth.  Not the best taste at 6.5 miles.


6.) Before the race, use the restroom.  But pocket some of that toilet paper because after the race, it'll be in short supply.


7.) Not everyone finishes.  Be proud in that fact.


8.) Mommy McD could totally handle a Full Marathon.


9.) Don't sit down in the shower after the race as you clean up for going out for dinner.  You won't get back up.  And yelling for help, naked on the shower stall floor is not glamorous.


10.) After running a Half Marathon, 2 beers get you buzzed.  3 get you very happy.  And 4 is just icing on the cake.


11.) For the rest of the day, your racing medal is the perfect accessory.


12.) It's not about the body type, it's about what's inside the body.


13.) Thank you Dillard's for the heavy-industrial bra.  I don't know what I would have done without it.

It's morning and I'm chipper as usual. Suck it.

I'm up.  No one else is.  I've started laundry because it's Saturday and I have things to clean.  I don't care if it wakes anybody up.  By this time tomorrow,  I should be done/nearing completion of an awesome 13.1 miles.  That's taking into the severe time delay it could take to get 8,000 bodies over the start line.  


Mommy McD keeps referring to it as "gun time."  I giggle.  Who are we kidding?  We're not Ultras.  We're 2 thought process-lacking friends who thought it'd be fun for a morning to run for beer.  And now we're less than 24 hours out.  Awesome.


Last night I was berated again for not getting/being married.  This time by a guy...who kept reiterating how much money I could gain from that little piece of paper.  Okay, buddy, a.) I wouldn't see any of that because it'd be on Mr. Wookie's paycheck.  Secondly, isn't marrying for money something that is frowned upon (less, of course, it's going to set me up with a hefty sum after he croaks...because he's old after all, and Anna Nicole is my idol)?  And thirdly,...well I don't have a thirdly at the moment.  But it was odd to be reprimanded by a male for not being legally bound to someone.  I thought they had better things to do like stroke chest hairs, compare militia arsenals, and drink Scotch on the rocks.  Besides, most men avoid marriage like the plague.  But apparently this guy brought his soap box last night.


I think it was Mr. Wookie who broke a water glass last night at the bar and the liquid proceeded to run down onto my shoe.  "Leather shoe, leather shoe, LEATHER SHOE!"  Apparently my Clarks: Artisan Collection are no match for a spilled water glass.  My spilled water glass.  Because Karma's awesome like that.  And I guess it's time for a new pair of shoes.  Sold.


I'd really like to get a pedicure after this whole run tomorrow, but I just don't have the toenails to paint.  When I nervous, I'll start messing with my toenails. So now they're just short nubs.  And I'm running tomorrow, so there's no time to grow them out just for green polish.


And speaking of green polish, I walked into Claire's yesterday with the intent to purchase polish so I can have jazz nails for the race. But then as soon I saw that the bottle was Oregon Y(D)uck Green, I did an immediate about-face and high-tailed it outta there.  No way could a proud Oregon State alumni stoop to such levels.  And now I'm heavily debating not wearing green to the Shamrock Races because the color has the tendency to offend me so much.  So I may be in green.  I may be in hot watermelon.

Happy Packet Pick-Up Day!

Who's excited for a Friday of NOT being at work???  This blogger RIGHT HERE!

Today I spent the day toiling around the house, doing a little housework, and a little out-and-about-playing alone.

Ya, this is our "dining room table" - here it's strewn with wine glasses, a soup lid, and my laptop. Because blogging is important.  Duh.

Again, my "office" is a hole.  I really need a desk.  But we just don't have the space.  But guess where I'm blogging from right now.  This chair.  With a heaping vodka tonic on my chair.

Maybe my New Year's Resolution should have been to be cleaner.  Maybe...


But on to more important things, today was PACKET PICK-UP DAY.  Sunday is THE race day for our Half Marathon.  Training long done, today is the day for pick up our supplies and swag for efforts.  Score one for the been-bitten-with-the-running-bug buddies.

We have packet pick-up papers!  Gimme my number!  Bitch!

This the Charlie Foxtrot of a parking lot.  And this was right after they opened.  On a Friday afternoon.  Geez, people, don't you have jobs!?

Convention Center time!  So excited!  Let's hope this excitement continues through to Sunday, through race time, and afterwards as I'll pound beer like they're going out of style.

Hippie love for the hybrid/electric cars.  And Mr. Wookie doesn't find the need to take a picture of this sign.  I like to document the hippieness outside of Oregon.

My number!  I wonder if there's a way to track my progress online.  If so, I'm sure the Sheriff will figure something out.  He always does.

Can you see that?  The final number of the 8K??  24,000 runners?  Are you kidding me?  That's going to be a mess.

My motto.  My absolute motto.  I'm a drinker with a running problem.

We have our packets!!  Score!!!  And I was able to pick up Mommy McD's packet also without a hitch.  Good.  Because no one wants an angry Ging.

Amen.

So I went to Dick's Sporting Goods today and scored some Nike Dri-Fit tops.  I was going to wear the green shirt on Sunday, buuuuuut I'm not really feeling the green color.  It's a hard color for a Beaver grad to swallow.  So I may rock the watermelon color.  We'll see.

In case I need some energy on those hefty miles.  Wait, I mean, when I need some energy on those hefty miles.  It's 13.1 miles...who are we kidding???

This is my swag shirt from the Expo.  And I realize it's kinda hard to read while I take a picture in the mirror.  But you'll figure it out.  Because it's me.  Der.

And for Mommy McD, this hot pink shirt courtesy of Women's Running in Florida.

And today was amazing because it was Chaco weather!!!  Hello ladies...

Lunch anyone?

And in case you were wondering about the post-race festivities...

And for those who need a close-up of these bad boys.  It's love.  Pure love.

Conversations with a HYPOCRITE

Ugh....breathe, breathe....so I had the following conversation yesterday.

Preface: I was training someone at work yesterday for part of the morning...

Woman: So are you married?

Me: Nope.  But I have my boyfriend, and we're basically common-law'd so I'm good.

Yes, it's true.  While we're not actually married, we've been together so long that others we know have dated/gotten married/gotten divorced in the same timeframe.  We like to think we're Golden Hawn and Kurt Russell.  Or for those modernists, Marshall and Lilly.  And for those thinking I'm stealing the "Mrs" title prematurely, it's a nickname.  Try being the long-running relationship in college/now out of college.  Nicknames stick.  That and we're awesome.  Tangent ended.

Woman: You should get married.  There's just something about marriage, you're so much more committed.

Me: Yea, that's true.  My parents have been married for 30-something years.

Woman: See that's how it is, you just stick together.

Me: Yea, but the divorce rate is at 40% (yes, it depends on which research you quote), so I don't know...

Woman: True, but relationships come and go.

Me: Yes, and if that's the case, I pack my bags and hit the road.

Woman: I've been married twice.  I can't wait to get married again.

Me: JAW HITS FLOOR.  WAIT, WHAT?.

I had no rebuttal.  I think the sound of my jaw echo'd in the room.  I just don't know what to say about it.  Obviously marriage is a hot topic today.  I could stand on my soapbox.  I could proclaim my opinions in the matter.  But I think the moral of the story is, Can I get some ice?  For my chin...because that fall was something amazing.

Incognito Message to Middle Sister

Somewhere in June, is a big ol' pitcher of microbrew for when the family comes together...We'll laugh, we'll laugh more, we'll drink more beer...and then I'll realize that even one year on the Wrong Coast has me miss so much.  Supporting is hard from 3,000 miles away.

2005?

But until then, you can do this.  This'll be easy.  Plus, think of the drugs.  Sweet, sweet drugs.  Or if you end up being allergic, you can always sell them.  Money is good now-a-days.  If you have anything to donate, your older sister is always appreciate.  Puffy vests.  Or puffy vests.  And if you start to lose your mind, I'll help you find it.  Well, I'll look too.  For my mind also.


Love you sister.

The St. Patty's Day of Bad Decisions

I have to be in at 8am tomorrow. In a suit. For like my 3rd day in a row. Not excited. Can you tell? Can you? Can you?


So I intended to come home, eat some dinner, have a glass of red wine, and do some laundry because I'm having a house guest for the next 4 days and this place is a trainwreck de-railed by a pack of Girls Scout cookie-selling suicide bombers.


But now I'm being talked into going out for just one drink at our watering hole. Because one drink totally won't turn into 2 drinks, which totally won't have me coming home past 10pm on a work night. Because I love getting less that 8.5 hours of sleep. While a drunken wookie snores next to me.


Score one for the Evil Ashley on my shoulder. Totally kicking Angel Ashley's ass of my other shoulder. Oh well...someone has to win. Besides, Dr. Sheriff totally advocates hydration. I have to listen to Dr.'s orders!

******************* Edited to Add **********************

I'm home.  After one drink.  One green drink.  A Jamie on the rocks.  That's Jameson for the laymen.  Amateurs.  And a tuna po-boy.  With a side salad.  Because healthiness is important.  Har.


Happy St. Patty's Day to all!  Hope your nights are far more superior than my one-drink outing.  Cheers.  Prost.  Chin chin.

My Work Week = BUSY!

I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.  I can't wait until Friday.

My eyelids will open when they see fit.  I won't have to worry about packing snacks/lunch for work.  I won't have to do breakfast pick-ups at 8am.  I won't have to wear a suit.

But until then, I still have 2 days in my-busiest-week ever!

And the worst part: When I scheduled to take Friday off from work, there was nothing on my schedule.  No visitors, no guests, no meetings, no luncheons, no events.  Nil.  Nada.  Zilch.  Now, there's a swarm-load.  Perfect timing, no?  So my Thursday evening will be spent prepping every last item so Friday is manageable without me.

Mommy McD, I'll see you when I see you.  Mr. Wookie may be your shuttle.  Unfortunately we won't really know until Thursday.  Text me today and we can try to figure this out.  You're coming home with us, somehow.  The 'when' is more of the question.

I'm thinking that this Half Marathon will be less stressful than work.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready for the day.  I have too much to do, and not enough time.  And I still don't know what I'm wearing on race day.  Plus, I need a nap.

High-Five Sister-In-Law!

Thank you, Amber, for this amazing shot of Mama Ging...

So apparently kids standing on furniture is NOT okay. But Mama Ging's standing on furniture to capture pictures of the growing-ever-cuter grandbaby is COMPLETELY acceptable. Riiiight. Hypocrite.


Sister-In-Law, 5 points!

Nice to meet you, I'm your biggest blogging fan.

What can I say?  People know me.  People read me.  Therefore I'm of small celebrity status.  In my own head.  But that doesn't stop when it comes to blog-droppin' names, photos, and stories like it's hot.

Today's post-run fuel was consumed during the Little Man's first webcam with his status-stalking blogger Aunt.  He should thank me.  Without the blog, how else would other people know how cute he is?  Der.  He'll sign me as his Agent.  I know it.

And is it just me, or he striking a primitive 'thinker' pose?  He must have gotten well-versed in the Arts in utero.  Must have been all that 80's music.

The Final Countdown: 1 Week

We have 6 days left. That's all. THAT'S ALL!  Thank goodness.  Because this training is seriously eating up my time.  I had no idea that training for a Half Marathon would take up so much time and energy.  How people work full-time jobs and train for multiple long-distance races is BEYOND me.  Maybe it's a good thing I enjoy the shorter runs.  And by shorter, I mean the 8Ks and 10Ks.  Yea, running has changed me.

It's our last long run before next Sunday.  I'll be tapering down to 7.5 miles today while Mr.  Wookie sticks it to 11 miles.  We'll be heading up to Old Dominion University again.  It's their "urban" collegiate campus.  And by "urban," I mean it's surrounded by ghetto.  This is our incentive for running quickly through these areas.  Breathe, breathe, I won't get shived, I won't get shived, stride, stride.


Time to lace up those sneakers.  The Pepto should be kicked in by now.


And apparently it's raining now.  Yay.  I miss my Oregon.  Rain, sweet, rain.

June can't come fast enough.

Because a week can't go by where I don't get to brag...

And yes, he's rocking his Beaver Gear.  Because it's a school of character.  And his Daddy graduated from there.  So did his blogging Aunt.  And his Auntie Middle Sister will this June.  And his Great Uncle while in the 1970's.  And I'll stop while I'm ahead.  Go Beavs.

Saturday, Ging Style...

This morning brought to you by a typical Saturday morning up at 7:30am, as a chipper piece of shit. And yes, Mr. Wookie slept his ass in until much later. Shocking.

Too bad Mr. Wookie's morning started like this. Breakast ala Ibuprofin.

But it's okay, because Mr. Friendly decided to Vogue for the camera. He's our yellow-bellied slider. And the hornieriest of the 3 turtles. He'll literally swim back and forth on the front glass until you feed him. His nickname is Jabba the Turtle.

But with the weather being oh-so-glorious today, it's time to dust off Lipton's Cold Brew. Ahhhhh. This reminds me of summers back in Hometown, Oregon, grabbing a glass of iced tea and stealin' some time in the Sheriff's hammock.

And after poking around in the freezer for some lunch, I figured these bad boys could use some defrosting. I think they're pumpkin raisin. But I could be wrong. I also may think they're vegan. But again, memory is slipping me on this one.

This ledge is way to convenient of a place to drape clothes as I change into either running gear or pajamas. Plus, laying a suit over this totally prevents wrinkles. Usually. Sometimes. It can.

I need to clean up my workspace. But a cluttered desk is a clean mind, right? Or do I have that wrong?

One of the highlights of my job is the flowers. How would someone not like free??

Mr. Wookie felt it necessary to indulge in an adult beverage today while playing Ruse.

And yes, it's homemade. Because we're badasses like that. Okay, I didn't make any of the beer. But I bought the kit. That totally counts.

And AGAIN, he attacks my precious hard-boiled eggs and turns them to canvas. I swear, how many more eggs will succumb to his artistry? It's like graffiti.

And it's that time again. Time to wash bottles for beer. Mr. Wookie has his third batch to bottle this weekend. A Hefeweizen this time. Should be tasty. We'll let you know.

And it went from gorgeous and 70+ degrees outside, to pouring down but still sunny. It felt like Hawaii. Because the one time we were there, they had the worst rainstorm in many moons. But we rolled with it. Because we're Oregonians. And that's just how badass we are.

And We're Under Construction!

No dipping a toe in to test these waters, we're going all out! New season, new layout! Cannonball, bitches!


Let's hope this is a smooth transition. If not, there's always a vodka tonic to relieve the stress. Or assist in brilliance in writing my "About Me" page.

How We Became To Have 21 More DVDs

Mr. Wookie's: "So Hollywood Video is going out of business. All movies under 4 bucks. Any requests!"

I would have texted him back, but I was incredibly busy at work with a luncheon so I failed to reply with any demands. Good thing to know I fail at hostage negotiation.

So we're now the proud owners of 21 new DVDs. Yes, 2-1. Twenty one. Venti uno.

But here are the only 2 that count in my book. I feel the need for some John Krasinski action this weekend. Who's up for License to Wed and Away We Go? Any takers??

Today: Brought To You By Funk.

Today was just funk. All day funk. Complete funk. Don't-mess-with-me funk.

It happened before lunch. Continued through lunch. Took over the afternoon. Continued after work. And stopped when I made a hefty Absolut and tonic.

Then I had a burger for dinner. No, not 5 Guys. Sadly.

And I'm on my second Absolut and tonic.

Funk is a dangerous game. And alcohol is the name of the game. Cheers.

Sometimes I Just Don't Care: Story of a Ging

I'm in a mood tonight where I just don't care. Maybe it's because Zumba was cancelled. Now I'm just in a funk. And a drink hasn't been made for me. Nor have I gotten up for one. Must be because my laptop is heavy. On my lap.

We're watching a Mongolian movie tonight where this little 9-year-old boy is choosing his wife. His wife! HIS WIFE! What the heck? At 9, I was out playing baseball with my siblings, using paper plates as bases, a wiffle bat, and having to help my Brother jump the fence for the ball when we'd hit a "homer." This kid is choosing his destiny. WTF?

And of course, I'm all upset because...women aren't just pieces of meat. I mean, they were back then. But thank goodness, I live in the modern times where I have the ability to earn my own paycheck/insurance/shopping sprees.

Wook says this is all a figment of my imagination and he's going to pee on me to claim his territory. Awesome. Better go get a jelly fish sting first.

I had a nightmare I woke up at 9am this morning. I had an event at 8am, so I was in at 7am. Ya, that was a fun slight panic at 4:15am this morning.

Oh, but good news amidst my funk. They're adding a 2nd day to Zumba for the week (sound familiar, Mommy McD?). Yay me.

And another good point. Less than 2 weeks until this Half Marathon is over. I'm nervous/excited/anticipatory/panicky. I just want to know what we signed ourselves up for is something we'll surpass and overcome. And will this be a wise decision for use to incorporate a Half Marathon in each of our yearly reunions?

Wook just made me a vodka tonic up. Seriously? But where's my lemon wedge? ;)

I'm signing up for an 8K in June for the weekend after Tracer's graduation. And the kicker? It's 4 blocks from my front door. Awesome. But thank goodness the race isn't actually on my street. That'd be one angry Ging. I'd be Redneck Ging. Polishing Mr. Wookie's shotgun, yelling at people to get off my door stoop.

I get to be in at 9am tomorrow. Yay for that.

Sometimes I feel like my blog has no real point to it. I'm not some 20-something who goes out partying every night and walk-of-shaming every morning. I'm not a fitness guru. I'm just a girl, who lives far from her family, has plenty of friends around the country (and Austria!), and gets into stupid shit sometimes. Or goes out drinking on a Friday because that's the only day that fits into her running schedule as an "off" day.

That gets me thinking. These people who claim to relate to Marshall and Lilly from How I Met Your Mother. Umm, let's ask the all-important question? Did you wait 9 years to get engaged? No. Well then you're not Marshall and Lilly.

With that, Mr. Wookie and I are on our way. That and Lilly is a Ging. Dude, do I need to make it any more obvious? Minus Mr. Wookie is not a lawyer, doesn't have the nickname of Vanilla Thunder, and isn't from Minnesooooota. Instead, he's a Navy Jr. Lt., has the nickname of Chef-Boy-yar-Wookie, and hails from California/Pennsylvania/Texas/Louisiana/Guam/anywhere else he grew up.

I seriously can't recall how the idea of running a Half Marathon came to be a "good idea."

Wow, that's a stiff drink. I'm only halfway done. But halfway to happy.

I'm pretty sure I could live in a yurt. I really think I'm a hippie that OD'd at Woodstock and then came back as a terrorizing Ging in the modern day. No wonder I have the longing/yearning for the late 1960's. They were my time. And the best time for music, cars, clothes, and drugs.

Not that I do drugs. Or have done. Minus ol' fashioned liquor. We're great friends.

For those who don't know, my vacation time was approved for Middle Sister's college graduation. You know what that means! Oregon. 5 days. Great beer. Awesome town. Best school colors. Lots of sunscreen. One boring ass commencement ceremony. Totally worth it.

And now it's past 10pm. And this Mongolian movie is still going on. But my drink's almost empty. And my computer's running low. So time to shut her down and power her up. And fill up my drink and power that down. Hey-yo!

"I Want" Wednesday

What I wouldn't give for more sleep.

What I wouldn't give for a personal masseuse for after the Half Marathon.

What I wouldn't give for a day off today when it's supposed to surpass 70 degrees.

What I wouldn't give for the slight ability to tan.

But then, what I wouldn't want to give up would be my inherent nature to preserve my skin in it's delicate fashion and not like look like a Real Housewives of Orange County/baseball mitt.

What I wouldn't give for the chance to sleep in since Mr. Wookie doesn't have to be at work until Noon. This blogger'll be in at 7am. In a suit.

What I wouldn't give for the ability to Mary-Poppins-snap my clothes clean.

What I wouldn't give for a few more running shirts.

What I wouldn't give for a stomach that was content at one bowl of Cheerios.

10 Miles, No Issues

Why? How? Thanks to 3 Pepto Bismols this morning with breakfast.

I'm hoping this doesn't have any adverse side effects.

I swear, weekends always go by too quickly. On Friday, I was jazzed that I'd be webcam-ing with the parents while they babysat Little Man. Then the Sheriff had to go out of town on business, and I was struck down with a headache on Saturday afternoon after navigating a hangover-free morning (we had to show a new-in-town Long Islander the ropes of Downtown Norfolk, thus it was a long and please-pronounce-your-r's night).

My deduced culprit: Our projector.

In case you don't know/live under a rock/have the memory of a goldfish, we have a projector connected to Mr. Wookie's computer to watch all the streaming Netflix can provide (we save so much! by not having cable). But because of this huuuuge image that's plastered on the wall, and our couch being too close for my eyes, sometimes intense scenes can make my brain go haywire. Meet the motion-sick Ging. Insert headache. Take nap. Have nap not work. Have Ging hate life.

We need a real television, I concur.

Saturday was a great day other than that. I hit over 50 degrees.

And I shaved my legs.

Why is shaving a monumental moment? Because I can't remember the last time I took a razor to my legs. When you're blessed with light leg hair, you have the freedom to shave or not to shave in crazy cold winter months. I, being from Oregon and having no issue of a little peach fuzz on the legs, decided to add another layer to the frigid East Coast winter.

You may think it's gross/unattractive/disgusting/unhygienic/Cavewoman-esque, and I'll disagree to all but the last. I envy Cavewomen. They were pioneers. Wall art for blogs. Ingenius, I tell you! But other than that, those who think a little peach fuzz is un-called-for are those who are a slave to the razor because of their Greek/Italian/Middle Eastern/manish genetics. Another point for the Gings. Take that.

So with these rising temperatures, which bring out the 'Hallelujah!' in us all, I'll be baring my pasty white skin for the world to see. Some'll think I'm a Twilight extra. Some will think I'm in dire need of some bronzer/time in the tanning bed/pigment of any sort. But let's talk in 10/15/20 years when skin cancer starts eating away their face. Then they'll think freckles are hot. Until then, my freckles are merely a means of entertainment by connecting the dots.

And to wrap up this post of non-important items. I love how my post-run meals are the garbage can. I inhale everything. I had a half a turkey sandwich after getting home. Then I had Machismo Burrito vegetarian nachos for dinner. And as soon as I hit "Publish Post," I'm going to dig into some sorbet. Raspberry sorbet, for specifics. I just wish we could find a LiveStream of the Oscars before they're over. We caught the Red Carpet, but we're thinking that NBC will have too tight of control of live streaming for us to find it free online. Oh well, I'd care more, but that sorbet is sounding good. Priorities established.

Today's Run Brought To You By IBS, Pain, and ODU

Thank you, Google Maps for providing our layout for today's increasing mileage.

We start out at "A," the Casa de Wookie. From there, we circle around the Minor League Baseball Stadium, and back home. Total miles: 3.1. The perfect amount of miles before the thought process of needing to find a bathroom becomes Mission: Numero Uno.

From there we stroll along the residential area, aka "E."

After that, we hit the busy street of Hampton Blvd, up to Old Dominion University, and kick around the campus for a stride.

Then, we head for home, a tall glass of water, a snack, and a shower.

Total miles: 10. Amount of perspiration: Tons. Foot pain: Hopefully minimal.

We've got exactly 2 weeks people. Well, actually less than. By this time I should be multiple deep into free beer. And I imagine it'll taste spectacular. If not, there's always straight vodka. To drown the pain of the run and the lacking quality of beer. Here's to Mr. Wookie, Mommy McD, and I. May we learn that $80 for pain, beer, and swag bags may come at a higher price. Cheers.

This Little Man Is Growing On Me...

Happy Saturday for some. Happy Hungover Saturday for others? Baby Sister?

Here's more Little Man video. Der. Like you need more introductions. Yes, he's been getting quite the attention lately. But that's what you get with the first nephew/grandchild/family reproduction. The next child'll barely get a blogpost. Okay, not really. But that could happen. Unless it's another Gingish offspring. There's always room for more Ging blogging.

Happy Birthday To My Portland-Dwelling Sista!

The Countdown: 364 days. Until? That elusive 21st birthday. Amazing.

Here we are, pimpin' it in Mexico, on our latest family vacation of fun. We're hot.

I wish I had the motivation for a list of 20 Things To Do For Your 20th Birthday. But I don't. I'm still nursing my first cocktail. And motivation eludes me.

Instead, let's recount my 20th birthday. I don't remember it. Because it was probably super lame. Now my 21st birthday, oooooooh boy. I wish I would have been told the wise pearls of wisdom of drinks lots of Gatorade pre-bash, then nurse a bagel and Gatorade post-bash. Instead, I was nearly presumed dead in the hallway of my apartment. In just my underwear. And a blanket. Awesome.

The 20th is the last hurrah for illegal fashions.

So Baby Sister, go out, and prosper.

I did sing to her on my commute home from work. Apparently she's being taken out to dinner by her friends, which is how it should be. However, she doesn't know where she's going. So for all she knows, it could Jiggles (a strip club just south of Portland). So enjoy, Baby Sister, even if it is Bridget the Midget.

Finally, Over Halfway to Friday

Did you know you can bruise your palm by excessive 3-hole punching?

- I learned this the fun way, while filing at work, and after punching about 2 reams of paper, realized, "Wow, this might leave a mark."

And did you know I can actually stay up to 11:30pm on a work night?

- I found this out last night as I kept trolling online for anything to entertain me, before realizing that it's 2 hours past my bedtime. I hope I don't pay too much for last night's lack of sleep. My first cup of coffee at the office should taste mighty fine.

And who scored 2 new suits in her shopping endeavors from last night?

- This Ging right here. I tried to find pictures online to show off my latest wardrobe additions. But I couldn't. So, it looks like Model Ging may come out to play this afternoon.

And what's on the running schedule tonight?

- The standard Thursday 5 miles.

And what were my thoughts when I saw on Facebook that someone I know just signed up for a full marathon?

- You're nuts. Do you have any idea? But good luck with that. Ya, not me.

Is It Friday Yet? Or Can I At Least Sleep Until Friday?

I'm here. I meant to blog yesterday. Then, there's today's post. Which is just crap. I'm telling you that I meant to have a post much better than this, but this is what you get. I'm all about needing good chi to write, otherwise it'll be crap. This is that crap.

So let's just go ahead with a verbal vomit to round out this day.

- There are 19 days until the Half Marathon. 19 days until I deemed it necessary to run 13.1 miles for beer. Wow, did I learn nothing in college? Beer is merely a, "Someone beer me!" away.

- I went to Target this weekend and stumbled upon some yoga gloves, so I picked them up. So come the end of this Half Marathon training, I'll be back to my yoga mat. And hopefully these babies will help me stay in place on said yoga mat.

- Tonight's cocktail was brought to you by Sailor Jerry's Spiced Rum.

- Tomorrow is Wednesday, which is halfway to Friday, which is Thank You, Jesus.

- This Sunday is a 10-mile run. Yay me.

- Thank goodness there are only 2 more long runs before this Half Marathon because finding a place to use the bathroom after Mile #2 is getting difficult. Both Starbucks and Walgreen's are off the list. What's left? Rite Aid and the 7-11??

- Mommy McD is dying also from training. Yay her.

- I did the math to keep on track for 500 miles logged this year. 3 miles on Monday, 3 miles on Thursday, and 4 on Sundays. These are minimums, of course. But in all actuality, these are probably maximums.

- If you guessed that I'd be behind on my book reading, you guessed right. Maybe once the running is done with I can devote more time to the resolution. But who are we kidding? It's me we're talking about. Maybe I should just switch to Choose Your Own Adventure books. Those are short enough.

- I've still got that in-grown armpit hair. And it still doesn't hurt. But if you're bored and want to scare the crap outta yourself, just start Googling and WebMD-ing what might be wrong with you. Hypochondria, check!

- I wonder if couples who share beds ever have 2 comforters. I mean, there are sometimes I put a vice grip on the covers. And who's left in the cold? Mr. Wookie, of course.

- For those who are JCPenney's fans, there's a sale starting tomorrow. So what did I do today? I went shopping. And put everything I wanted on hold. I'll go back tomorrow and pick it up for a way better price. That's using the ol' noggin'!

- And speaking of shopping, tangerine is making a comeback in spring colors.

- And so are those awful 60's prints. Go away. We don't want you.

- And did no one tell the East Coast how tiresome/boring/overdone the black 'n white combination is? I got rid of all my black/white clothes before I jumped ship. And now that's all I can find. Apparently there's a lot of color blind people on the East Coast. Or a lot of lazy people. Either way.