Feeling Better, Finally

After a four day break from running due to gender imposed monthly illness (how about that??), I finally got myself back out there today. I figured I might do better thanks to the days off, and turns out I did. I beat my best pace by 15 seconds and my 1.4 mile time by 28 seconds and didn't even work that hard at it. This time I tried drinking a Pepsi beforehand--not that I think any of these little attempted tricks of mine actually change things, but it amuses me.

I talked to my psychiatrist this week about whether or not my meds could affect my running ability and turns out in a former life she herself was a runner. No, she said, the meds wouldn't have anything to do with it, but she wasn't at all surprised that I'm having so many abdominal cramps. "Oh yes," she informed me, "run ten miles and you might start peeing blood. I puked all over everybody after my first 5K. I can't wait to see pictures of yours!"

Such cheering good news. I do love my psychiatrist. She is one of the best mental health professionals I have run into. She doesn't give me any bullshit. I can tell her exactly how I feel and why and how overwhelmed I am and she just listens and nods and accepts it. She doesn't tell me it's going to get better or that I shouldn't feel that way or that everything is going just great. And she laughs, all the time, at every funny thing I say. She thinks I'm hilarious. No wonder I like her.

So, tomorrow I run 2 miles, then after that I have to hit 3 miles. Tomorrow, I must mail in that race registration. And I'm NOT going to puke!