vurp (EXCUSE me!)

Two nights ago, two of my bestest friends took me out for dinner (to celebrate my impending b-day, naturally) at a great spot in EG, one of my favorites - Cafe Fresco. We went the more caj (shorten casual) route and sat at the bar and ordered apps. A very K-Sarah-B thing to do.

We ordered a bottle of pinot grigio (ofcoursewedid), which clearly was killed in a matter of minutes... c'mon now? 1 bottle, 3 girls... gone. Well, actually, B managed to stay within the 1 bottle parameter but K and I apparently chugged the remainder, slammed our glasses down, and slid the glasses down to the bartender for another round... kidding about the chugging, slamming, and sliding... but we did order another round. For the girl who quit drinking for 2 months and really hasn't been drinking much since quitting the quitting... this was enough wine to have me glowing, slightly slurring, giddy, and maybe slightly dramatic (but only slightly).

The food was delish (Rachel Ray?) - eggplant wedges, crab cakes, strawberry/goat cheese/nutty salad, and a great basilly/cheesey/saucey/grilled pizza. Food, company, wine, service - all fabulous.

Following the indulging, we ventured back to B's amazing new apartment (exposed beams, high ceilings, ambient lighting, amazing!) to continue chit chatting, enjoy each other's company, open my presents!, and drink more wine (obviously). The night was great. I really miss my girlies and I don't see them often enough but... I am finding that it only makes for greater quality when we DO hang out.

So - I wake up yesterday... slightly foggy but generally OK. Just OK. I did not feel spring fresh, jumping out of bed... or anything close. It was more of a mumble-grumble-pry-myself-up motion. I peeled myself away from the bed and into the bathroom to brush the teeth. I glanced in the mirror.

Holy hell. Racoon eyes, hair a frazzled disaster, lines on the face. Awesome.

Brushing my teeth seemed useless. I could not get the taste of day old wine and crab cake/eggplant/garlic out of my mouth no matter how long or hard I brushed. Gargle gargle, paa tooeey! Spit mouthwash into sink. Taste still there. Blech. I chugged some water. Took 2 Excedrin. Gulped a b-vitamin enriched smoothtastic beverage. Taste STILL there. Ugh.

I headed out to the gym. With less than 2 weeks to the half marathon... everyday counts and I cannot skip a training day because of a hangover-ish feeling.

The. Run. Was. Hell. Chugga chug I went on the treadmill. Oozing out alcohol and any remaining garlic, smelling like a champ. Towards the very end of my struggle-of-a-run, I was so mad at myself for indulging in too much wine that I bumped up my speed and sprinted for a good chunk of time (read: 2 minutes). I would not be outdone by Cafe Fresco and girltime shenanigans. As I neared the end of my 5 mile session with hell run... I had this overwhelming feeling of quease in my stomach. It was sort of heartburn-esque, like the feeling you get when you take vitamins on an empty stomach. Yucka.

When it was over, I stopped the treadmill and stood stretching my dehydrated calves. And then... I vurped. My body convulsed a little and I shuddered it away. Mother truckin' nasty. I walked out of the gym barely composed, probably a little green (it was earth day and all)... and quite surprised that I had made it through my run without actually... you know.

But... the pain was worth it. I had a great time with my chicas and still managed to power through my run.