I have been caring for an alien baby, but not by choice. My surgery imploded inside or something. Not really, but it feels that way. Imagine this girl who is running and working on being in shape and getting ready for race season (well, fair weather race season anyway) and she is sporting this look of distention. It's not pretty. Supposedly, the swelling is going to go down. This is not a fat joke. Although I wish it were.
My brother is very ill and has had been diagnosed with Crohn's since he was 12 Now they are not so sure that is what it is and so whatever. But he is still extremely sick, but the toughest man I know besides my grandpa. Anyway, I asked him how he was leading up to his colon removal surgery and he said he was weak and felt like shit. "Basically, I look like one of those Ethiopian children with the big extended bellies minus the flies." Yes, he has a snarky sense of humor. God love him.
I now know what he means. However, I feel like more like Fat Bastard minus the juicy chicken legs with BBQ sauce. Do you know how many stupid people have asked me when my baby is due and I am 48 freaking years old with wrinkles? Word of advice: don't ever ask someone about their baby unless they have a frickin' shirt on that says "baby on board" otherwise you might be insulting the fat lady.
After speaking to my doctor yesterday for post-op follow up I am pleased to announce I do not have cancer. I did have a strange reaction to his words that my uterus looks great inside now. He's not even a creeper doctor, but I just can't get into organs unless it is a big, giant....ok...let's not go there. Enough about roosters.
So, the swelling will go down. I will just continue to be the runner donning the basketball. Here is a non-selfie selfie taken of me recently. And when I show people how fat I am and feel by this picture, they say, "Oh, you aren't fat. We can't see anything because you have your coat on."
That was supposed to make me feel better I guess. Well, it didn't.
(Cue the smart ass tone and high pitch) "Oh, you aren't fat, Fargo. You are disguised by a tent." Well, who doesn't look skinny in a tent? You can see I have a fat fucking face and I know the alien uterus is under my coat. I AM A BUBBLE HEAD!
Ok. No need for self deprivation. Get on with it!
My next race is around St. Patty's Day. Why? Because you run for beer. Who wouldn't want to? After the race, you get a free micro brew from the local brewers. Yum. It's also that time of year that I mark my lowest pace going into race season and each additional race I gear up to beat the last one.
Am I going to ever run a major marathon? Probably not. At least it isn't a goal right now. I have enjoyed challenging myself on the state races because they are all different. We'll see where this takes me. Right now, the mother ship is landing outside and perhaps they will take this alien basketball I call a uterus with them.
If not, I am going to continue to use it as a cup holder or an armrest.
What inspires you? Beating your old pace? Picture motivation? A workout partner? Get into it. Do it. I would answer all three.
Once, I get down to my fighting weight, I'm going to get these boobs:
Well, not these boobs exactly because they are on someone already, and I am not Buffalo Bill (it puts the lotion on...). But I'm going to get a bra with duct tape like that so mine are all up in my face and not down on the ground. I wonder what people would say if I pranced around town with my hoohah teasing a glimpse out of my sweats like that. I suppose it wouldn't matter as long as I had a six pack. Around here it could be Keystone Light.
Day Two of super clean living and race diet. I have to say "diet" because it has the word, "die" in it. It is brutal but necessary. Although I am working my way up to marathon miles, I am not running in one. I don't think so anyway. My first goal is to get super fast on the 10K and then the half marathon. What is super fast? Well, for me...I want to keep an 8:30 pace for a 10K.
Put your shoes on? Move around! Go get it!