Me.

Mom. Triathlete. Yogi. Foodie. Writer. Boss. Coffee lover. Side hustler.

I run for team Oiselle Volée and Skratch Labs.

The Vertigo Effect

The Vertigo Effect

All the work I have done internally and with myself surpasses a BQ (Boston Qualifier). I just hope to remember that.
— Me

If I had a dollar for every time I talked about, or thought about, that one time I lost a marathon, I'd be rich.  I'd probably quit my job and go to med school.  I would definitely install an Endless Pool in my basement.  I'd probably establish a Villages-esque community with all my bestie running friends for us to live for all of eternity.  Yea.  Dollars add up.  

Right, so I lost a marathon.  And I just keep going back for more.  Each time, I'm refining the machine, learning so much from a technical perspective.  I am also growing psychologically and emotionally more than the words on this screen could ever tell.  With 10 days to go, I'm absolutely terrified that I'm here again.  

This past Sunday, I wrapped up the two hardest training weeks of my life, crashing into the remaining two weeks of taper.  Half way through the 1st week I felt like I had it.  At the end of the first week, I celebrated 'halfway'!  I eased into the second week, almost tip toeing, so as to not wake the dragon.  After nailing my twenty mile run at the end of week two, I cried tears of joy and felt like a mother fucking boss.  I had a few hints of nausea with a consistent dull headache during those weeks and ultimately, I just lost my appetite.  Nothing looked appealing, not even tacos, so I thought for sure that I was dying.  Occasionally, I'd wind up with a case of the spins; that could have been ANYTHING.  Yesterday, three days into my two week taper I went to get checked out.  Yadda yadda, I'm diagnosed with vertigo due to dehydration.  I thought this was odd because I'm really good at staying hydrated.  My labs checked out a-okay; the PA wanted to ensure that since I was training my electrolytes and iron were at normal levels.  So what gives?

I had my biweekly therapy appointment today and this was THE topic of conversation.  My therapist is wonderful.  Never in a million years would I have found her on my own, but here we are.  I'd make sure she had her own little cottage in my community, BTW.  She thinks that this is all anxiety.  I mean, sure, why not?  I'm under her care for anxiety.  Makes sense!  No, but really.  

After an hour of tears, maybe a bit of yelling, and some very constructive discussion we figured things out.  Here's the deal, guys.  I can't fail.  I've assigned specific parameters around what failure will mean to me.  But I'm not publishing those specifics.  And I'm trying to not make a big deal about this race, because I don't want it to be a big deal.  But it really fucking is.  And if I don't make a big deal then I won't have that far to fall when I fail.  Because, ya see, I've fallen before and it's a long, long way from the top.  I'll survive the fall, as I always have, barely, but you'll be there.  I don't, however, want that to happen, so I'm putting a beautiful polished shell on this.  It might crack...actually, it's cracking right now, but that's okay.  It's probably not. 

I'm being encouraged to 'believe' and to 'trust the process'.  Quite frankly, I have no clue what any of that means.  Ya know why?  Because I don't believe and I guess I thought that I had trusted the process before and it failed me.  Or, more likely, I FAILED IT.  Never the less, I'm trying again.  And I know I'll be back to do it all again.  Perhaps it's a drive for human performance, or it's the masochist in me.  You will be there to pick me up and I for you.  Again.  Because, unconditional love.  

Here's the plan I need to execute: I must B.E.  Best Effort.  That's what needs to be left on the course - my absolute best.  It's this Best Effort that will forever change my story.  And goddamn it, one day, this story will end with me winning a marathon.  

The Flight of the Phoenix

The Flight of the Phoenix

What Matters Most

What Matters Most