I am feeling blue and under the weather. Not physically, but emotionally. Please bear with me whilst I complain. Should be feeling back to my old chipper self shortly.
My first ever half marathon is less than 4 weeks away. I am scared out of my mind. I know I can run 12 miles here in the Vermont countryside. But I also know that at mile 10 of those 12, my feet are killing me, my toe nails feel like they will explode off my body, blisters cover my feet, and my toes are all cramped. I know I can make it through for the race, but I am still nervous. What if I want to give up? I am also nervous because though I know I can do 12 miles, I have so far only done 11. And I have only done it once. Last weekend when I went to do 11 miles, I had to call Mr. G at mile 10 to pick me up. My feet were begging me to stop. So really, I feel like if it were race week I could do 12 slow miles, but my feet would hurt, and I would not want to do another long run after. But I still have 2 weeks of good runs to get in, and I am nervous. I am also still not thrilled about my speed and had hoped to do this half in 2 hours and 20 minutes (pathetic, I know) but I am nervous that it will take longer and that I will be the last one done or that I will get caught up in the sweeper. Lastly, I love my long run route. I am a creature of habit. I dread doing a different route for 13 miles, especially a route I have never seen before. Here is hoping that 3 more weeks of runs, adrenaline, and crowd support get me through this race. Because, dear lord, I am terrified.
My GERD has been acting up again and everything I eat tastes bitter. It is awful to cook a meal and have it taste like shit in your mouth. ("I will not eat cat poop!" Name that movie.) I get so hungry and then forget that everything tastes horrible. I go to gobble up the beautiful salad I made for lunch and...ugh. Disgusting. Horrid. Bitter. Make it stop.
It is fruit fly season?? They swarm my office. I have killed one million, but it seems there are infinite amounts of them. They keep swarming around.
Lastly, Caroline the Corolla, my faithful sidekick of four years, has just decided that it was time to give me a hard time. This is our first fight. And of course it is right now, when we have returned from vacation where we blew all of our cash. And of course Mr. G did not get any paid time off while we were gone, so his paycheck on Friday is going to be a real kick in the shitter. Caroline, why oh why do you have to break down to the tune of $1000+ dollars? I thought we were BFFs?!
Ok, off to wallow in self pity.