What, does my ass read the Internet or something? Also: 48 HOURS. WTF.

Okay, so hand to God, not twelve hours after my last post outlining in excruciating detail my medicine issues of the past week, everything I’d written about as being wrong (which I will not recap here, but you’re free to scroll down and read for yourself but maybe not if you’re eating anything right at this minute) suddenly went POOF. Vanished. Gone. Solved! What the hell? It’s like my rear end is suddenly part of some vast customer service conspiracy: Nothing positive gets done until you complain about it on the Internet.

So, yeah, I’m glad I held off on writing to my doctor, because (knock wood) I seem to be back to normal in the digestive area of things. This is good news, because OH HEY I have a marathon coming up in OH CRAP less than 48 hours. WHAT THE FUHHHHhhhhh.

I have to give a million thanks to my running/blogging pal Alyssa over at NJ Runner Girl (http://www.njrunnergirl.com/) for her shout-out to me – while you’re over at her page, show her home state some love (as your way of thanking her too for her support) and make a donation or two or four to some of the relief efforts still going on. There’s still a lot of work to be done there, and no donation is too small! (Might I suggest the texting donations through the Red Cross and the American Humane Society? Text REDCROSS to 90999 and HUMANE to 80888 to make a $10 donation, as many times as you want)

But, um. Yeah. I’m on day two of my two consecutive rest days this week, and today I’m starting to get that when-can-I-run-again? twitch. I can run again tomorrow morning, when I will do a two-mile blowout run, and then after that it’s time to wait. There are a ton of cliches about this period in a marathoner’s journey to the race: The hay is in the barn, the gas is in the tank, the beer is in the keg – wait, hang on… Point being, I’m ready for this, and have been really for about two weeks, but now I’m in that weird headspace where all I can do is just count down the hours until the gun goes off. AAAAHHHHHhhhhh. I expect things will get exponentially worse tomorrow evening when I pick up my race packet and have a bib with a number and my name on it and the words Richmond Marathon and suddenly it’s t-minus 12 hours and HOLY CRAP I’m getting tingly just thinking about it.

Okay. Enough taper craziness for today – no, for now. I can’t guarantee this won’t keep happening for the next, um, 47 hours and 22 minutes… not that I’m keeping track, ’cause I’m not.



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