anyone have a shovel? time to dig out my soul

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i ran a half marathon on 2/20, my first one of 2011. i know, i know. i had intentions of running 13.1 on a treadmill and i may still have to since my goal is to do at least 12 this year. sorta wondering why i didn't aim for 11, since it's 2011. maybe because that sounds all cute and matchy and that is not how i have felt recently. i do believe in mental illness and have suffered from ongoing bouts of depression. sometimes people are shocked to hear this since i often have a ton of energy...but you've seen robin williams. he is funny (sometimes) and super hyper but it didn't shock me to hear that he suffered from manic depression. i don't like to label myself as this or that. i just know that this is an area i have struggled with and while i don't want to sound like a pessimist, i realize it may be a life long battle.


 i don't like the highs and lows and when i get sick, all things become magnified. one minute life is ok, the next not so much. after the half marathon i ran on 2/20 (will write a review later) i had the "normal" bout of post race uneasy stomach. but this time was different. the cramping didn't stop. i drank some muscle milk because i couldn't find any chocolate milk and remembered why i don't drink that crap. gross. anyway, i was supposed to meet up with my friend for breakfast i figured it would be ok and that eating food would be a good idea. our wait was over an hour long and in that time i managed to take AT LEAST 10-15 trips to the bathroom. i  again thought it would pass. we were finally seated and i managed to order and then removed myself from the table. at one point our food came, but i didn't know because i was stranded in the bathroom. when i got to the table my friend had already eaten most of his meal. i took 2 micro bites and just said...i can't do this as if i was breaking up with breakfast. my mimosa stared at me--alarmed. what the heck emilee, it said; you always drink a mimosa after a race. i just looked back and said, "it's not you, really...it's me"
by the time we left my friend appeared a little worried and perhaps embarrassed to be seen with me. i looked and felt awful. 
if there had been a hotel across from the restaurant you had better believe i would have been checking myself in. 
when i got home i really didn't know what to do. this was all foreign territory for me. the day before my stomach had been a little jitterish but i chalked it up to nerves. i was not prepared going into this run AT ALL. my body had been sick two weeks prior but i figured since i had given it a week off, i would be ok. 
i wanted to drill holes in my stomach. ask strangers to punch me--hard! at one point i was in so much pain it manifested into vomiting. this is when i became a little worried. it was now 2 pm. i had been able to get down some water, the muscle milk (gross) and that was about it. i had 2 bites of breakfast after running a half. i realize a half is not as impressive as a full, but i knew i needed some recovery nutrition because nothing was staying in. 
i drew a warm bath and soaked in the fetal position. this was one of those moments where i felt so vulnerable i swore i remembered my mom changing my diapers. 
i almost dozed off...but then the flood of discomfort came rushing in and i was re-introduced to reality...
after the bath and shower i felt desperate. it was decided that my stomach was already messed up, i may as well try something else...so i reached for some nyquil pm. that stuff knocks me out. sadly, it only worked for 30-40 minutes but it was 30-40 minutes of peace. when i woke up i was soo hungry! hungry like a tiger! but i had no strength and felt soo dehydrated. at 6 pm i made an executive decision and decided i wouldn't be making it back to eugene that night...i mustered up enough energy to drive to the store to buy some gluten. while i realize i could have aimed for something a little less minute rice-ish and saltine dream-ish...it's what i know...it's a pattern i've had since childhood. i also picked up some gatorade and started drinking a little at a time. i felt awful. i ate and curled up. took a bite and tried to close my eyes. at one point i sent a text to my boss asking her if i could work a half day. she was sorta receptive but i thought....honestly, i wouldn't even be at my desk if i came in. literally. so...i laid down at 7:30 and tried to sleep. i was up 3 times every hour. at about 11pm i started bawling. i had cried a bit throughout the day but this was an absolute break down. i don't have a lot of friends in portland and didn't know who to call, so i just cried and hoped it would alleviate some discomfort. 
i woke up around 7am and started to pack up to try and make it into work by noon. i felt awful...and exhausted and every bit of buried.  i have to admit, there are times when i believe our  bodies and heart and mind hold secret board meetings without us knowing...during these meetings they come up with a plan that reunites us with reality. the reality that requires us to take an inventory of our well being. 
recently, i have been really stressed and feeling like a failure...don't worry though that's not ALL i think...i also think i kick ass. but i haven't kicked as much ass as i am capable of...so it's time to start digging...out my soul. 

Comments

  1. That's terrible! Did you ever find out what was wrong? I've heard a few people tell similar stories before they had their gall bladder removed. I hope you are okay now.

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