I'm petrified of nipple chafing. Once it starts, it's a vicious circle.

or, The Weekend of Mexico and a Marathon.

And what a weekend it was.

That's right bros and hoes, I FINISHED the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon. And don't ask me if I ran the whole thing, most people don't. So piss off. I finished.

But this epic and equally tragic event cannot fully be appreciated without reiterating the events that occured on the eve of the marathon, because these proceedings will go down in history (I hope) as the stupidest thing I will ever do.

One thing that this evening proved to me, is that talking on the phone using a wireless headset is in no way less distracting than holding the phone in your goddamn hand. Because regardless of where my actual telephone was while I was gabbing to my NY running guru on the 5 freeway, I STILL took the 5 south from downtown, and STILL didn't notice until it was too late. Much too late.

That's right, people. I ended up in motherfuckingmexico. MEXICO. Accidentally. I ACCIDENTALLY DROVE TO MEXICO. What?!

The best part of this momentous occasion was the fact that when I phoned my friends, naturally, hysterical about the fact that I was LOST in motherfuckingmexico, without ANY GAS IN MY TANK, mind you, they most definitely did not believe me. How could you be in Mexico? 'Well guys, there's only Mexicans here and all the signs are in Spanish. Oh and there's lots of Raiders gear. So...boom.'

After asking a cab driver how to get back to 'Saaan Diiiiieeeegooooo,' turning the wrong way down a one-way pot-holed street, finally finding the endless line of wonder that is border control, and waiting 50 effing minutes to cross back into the land of fake-but-just-as-good-when-you're-scared-of-pumping-gas-in-real-Mexico Mexican food, I eventually arrived at the blessed window of freedom.

'I accidentally came here.'

'You "accidentally" came here?'

'Yes.'

'Didn't you see the HUGE sign?'

Blank pitiful stare.

Sweet lord almighty.

And somehow, I ran a marathon the next day. A motherfuckingmarathon, after being in motherfuckingmexico just 7 hours before. So no, I didn't run the whole thing. And yes, the last 6 miles felt like a slow and painful death in the Desert of Pain and Misfortune, but it was hands-down one of the coolest things I've done or will do in my life.

I may have walked like a Mexican over-laid hooker for the next three days in an attempt to avoid actually using my obliterated muscles, but it was all worth it.

Olé.