Emotion

This has been a tough week already, and it's only Wednesday morning.  Monday was stressful as hell, and then my boss yelled at me.  Or rather, made me feel like I seriously effed up and would never be able to recover.  But I didn't cry and I plowed ahead and did my best to fix the problem.

Tuesday morning I had a gyno visit.  My tasks there were to talk to her about my (annoying) frequent peeing, and maybe ask her about my fertility.  I mentioned the peeing thing, and downplayed it, and she said drink less caffeine.  Ok, fine.  Then she asked if anything has changed healthwise, and I said "other than weight gain (voice cracking), no."  And I gulped.  And then I was on the verge of tears the rest of the visit.  She told me to go on Weight Watchers and exercise.  That the patients she has that have been most successful at losing and keeping it off did that.  She was trying to be helpful.  She told me her daughter and son have both gained weight and she's trying to help them figure out what to do.  Normally, my gyno is a bit of a cold fish, unreadable, but efficient, and always willing to answer questions.  This was a time she showed compassion, and I really appreciated it.  I didn't feel like she was telling me "you're a fat slob and a failure."  No, that voice was in MY head.  She acknowledged the issue and reminded me that it's all on me.  I'm the only one who can fix it.  And once again I started feeling hopeless.

I've noticed my emotions getting all out of whack again.  It started a couple months after I stopped the Prozac.  I probably shouldn't have stopped the Prozac, but I was convinced it was hurting my weight and I really don't want to be medicated all the time.  And that's where the exercise comes in.  I can manage it a little with exercise, but right now my depression and anxiety are making me put that off too.

Last night a friend of mine popped up in chat- we hadn't talked for several weeks.  I think I misread her and thought I was annoying her.  She said several times that she really missed me.  I told her I need therapy again (she referred me to probably the only therapist that actually helped me).  I need to get a new mental health card and just make a damn appointment. I'm still wondering if I might be bipolar 2. Or just nuts.  Either way, I need a professional to help me. I need to do something about this.  I can't just be on the verge of tears every waking minute.  It's exhausting, nevermind embarassing.

Time to get positive

It's time to get positive.  I've been in a slump of negativity, and it's got to stop.



This past weekend, I ran in the Frederick Running Festival.  I did the "Nut Job challenge", where I ran the 5k the Saturday evening (6pm start) and the half marathon on Sunday morning (7am start).  At the 5k, my first mile was the fastest I've done in over a year, at 13:29 pace.  I finished the 5k with a pace of just over 14 minutes- also an accomplishment. I was sore, but pumped, and my guy was there for me, which made it that much better.
I just watched the finish line video, and it's not something I'm going to share with the general public. I also have another new goal of looking more graceful at the finish line of a race..

So, Sunday morning, after only about 4 hours of sleep, Hal, Curtis, and I went to the starting line of the half marathon.  There was much adjusting of shoes and removal of gravel from said shoes, nervous porta-potty visit, and spillage of the sports drink.  Hal declared that he would stay with me for the duration.  He was afraid, apparently, that I wouldn't make it before the course was pulled up.  The Frederick Running Festival people made many warnings all over their emails and website that the course had a strict 3 hour 30-minute limit and that if you fell behind, you'd be forced to finish on the sidewalks.  For about 10 miles, we kept up a pace of under 16 minutes. (a 16 minute pace is 3:30 finish time.)  Alas, officer-not-so-friendly decided to stalk us around mile 9 or so and tell us that we were too slow and if we fell behind we'd be forced to the sidewalk.  The cone collectors were behind him, pulling up the traffic cones that defined the runners lanes.

I was deflated, and pissed.  There were several women around me, also doing their best to get to the end.  I'd talked with two of them and their determination was inspiring.  Yes, I wanted my damn medals, but I also wanted them to have their medals.  For one, I knew it was her first half, and I suspect it was the other lady's first as well.  I know the triumph of completing one's first half marathon.  I wanted them to have that experience, untarnished.

I started to slow, and started feeling all of the aches and pains my brain had been ignoring to that point.  2.5 hours in and I started to give up.  We walked on, but we only walked.  I couldn't/ wouldn't make myself run. We went through two more water stops.  The volunteers were lovely.  I almost cried;  I was so grateful to them, their encouragement, and their help (damn was I thirsty!).  Then, we got lost.  I called Curtis to ask him the next directions, which he conveyed to me just fine.  We kept going.  Then, we. got. lost.  And I mean REALLY lost.  We were in some kind of industrial yard, in the middle of downtown Frederick.  What?  Yeah...  After another two phone calls, an angry text that wouldn't send, checking Google maps that didn't help, and a very helpful text from Curtis, we finally got back on track.  We'd lost probably 10 minutes in that little adventure.  The few people that were still behind us got ahead of us.  I was angry, and emotional.  It wasn't pretty.  But we found the fairgrounds, and the racetrack, and I jogged across the finish.  And later I discovered I made the Frederick Running Festival's FaceBook page, labeled as the last finisher.  However, if you check the results, there were two other people behind me.  Kudos to them for finishing, even though others gave up on them.

I got my damn medals.  They're in my purse- I wanted to show a few people at work.  They were very excited about my half marathon finish.  And you know, as pissy as I felt at the time, I am proud I did it.  I was so disappointed in myself up to now, knowing how much more in shape I was and how much better I did before. This was what I needed to get some confidence back.  I really had to choke back tears at the finish.  I didn't believe in myself at all.  Now I know I can do it, even if I'm really out of shape.  Training for Baltimore starts now.  I will be awesome in October.