UPCOMING EVENTS: Hartford (RI) marathon, Newport (CT) marathon in October,
Soldier (GA) marathon, Pensacola (FL) marathon, and Pilgrim Pacer Marathons (KS) in November

It's never too late to be what you might have been. --George Eliot

This blog is about my journey as an asthmatic, hypothyroid, formerly plus-sized endurance athlete. It's occasionally interrupted with things that have nothing to do with that or whining about my weight and horrible eating habits. "You're never too old to be what you might have been" --George Eliot

Friday, March 30, 2012

I'm not in the seventh grade, and I've got things to do.

Dear Diary,

13. Okay. Give up? The marathon double we're doing is Saturday is the Sehgahunda in New York, and on Sunday, the Memorial Day marathon in Massachusettes. Mr. Smarty smart turned in some frequent fly miles.

12. My crappy Friday. Friday morning I woke up to a sharp, unpleasant feeling in my pelvis. It got lots worse, until I finally recognized it: shit. This is another damned ovarian cyst. Ow, ow, ow. You can imagine how unromantic this morning was with me weeping and trying to find a comfortable position. Finally, Baboo offered me a Tylenol 3, which I took with a sip of diet soda. Tylenol 3 is the bomb. I love, love, love Tylenol 3.

Anyway, it must have ruptured or something because I woke up three hours later with just a dull ache. Then I went in to have the blood draw for my annual physical, and was scolded by a twenty-something tech for having taken a sip of diet soda when I should have been fasting.

Listen. Just because you wear a lab coat discarded by a Clinique saleslady doesn't give you authority. I woke up in crazy mad pain this morning and yes, I took a sip of diet cream soda with my oxycodone and that isn't going to hurt anyone. Just put that in the comments section of my paperwork, if the certificate you earned from your six-weeks of medical tech school will allow you to do that. Otherwise, STEP OFF, BITCH.

Yes, that's what I could have said. But I didn't, because I am a FUCKING PROFESSIONAL. instead, I just said through my teeth, Draw my blood, so that I can go have my Starbucks, and I will accept the consequences from my doctor.

I also had a bacon artesian sandwich. That'll teach her.

11. Sweet Baboo has been closing in on his high school weight. He now is at a weight he says he hasn't seen since tenth grade. That is amazing, that a human being can weigh 187 lbs in 10th grade. I think I weighed 105 in the 10th grade. Yes, we will have to buy him new pants soon, and I, I will have to run more to keep the 40 lbs gap between us that has always been there. I can't imagine not being lighter than Baboo. He's downright lanky these days for 6’1”, but still makes me feel tiny. That's very important.

I must feel tiny. It's all about me.

10. I have now purchased a cable modem, a phone, joined Hulu , now I'm working on getting a VOIT device for phone. I'm shopping LED bulbs too.

9. I am far, far too lazy to write a full race report on the Bataan. So here is a profile of the course. And no, it wasn't 25.8. It was a full 26.2 miles of hot, sandy mess. It was hot, too. 90 degrees hot. With an increasingly dry, hot wind. Every time I tried running I would start panting and feel sick. So, I spent a lot of the last seven miles speed-walking.

8. Oh, and sand. Did I mention the sand?

7. In my continuing quest to be cheap, er, to conserve energy, I have two guys coming this week to give me estimates. The first is for solar screens. Most of the screens around our house are pretty bedraggled anyway, and one was torn up when we were robbed in 2010, so I'm looking to get new ones woth a spcial fabric that blocks up to 80% of the sun's rays on the south end of the house. The other guy is giving us an estimate on sun-blocking roller blinds for our front room, which heats up quite a bit during the day due to solar gain.

6. Also, the Jonster has been digging up grass in the front yard to prerpare for a more appropriate landscape plan. Growing grass in the desert is just stupid, wasteful, and expensive. It takes a lot of water to keep that stuff alive. And, its boring. I have a fantasy of having a yard like this one, from a place called High Country Gardens: this garden is called the inferno strip.

5. Why am I doing all this? More money for race entry fees and running shoes, of course!

4. I had my annual physical today. Everythings good except that my TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) is "off". So, the doc bumped up my meds again.

3. Doc also asked me "about" how many long distances I ran, say, last year. I stared at him.

I mean, a half marathon or longer, say.

I stared at him some more. Then I finally said, hold on, I'm trying to count. I finally gave up and said, maybe a dozen?

Blink. Blink. In a year?

He loves us. Both of us. His private practice is full of ill people with cellulitis and badly managed diabetes, and all the people who say they want to be healthier but...but...but...and the excuses start. and once a year or so, we come bounding in for our annual physicals.

2. New job, ironically, also wants to give me a physical. I have to spend three hours with them on Monday.

1. My doc d me if I smoked pot.

"i beg your pardon?" the topic of the moment was my asthma, and I thought I'd misunderstood him. I was reminded of Daniel Tosh and was tempted to say, "no, because I'm not in the 7th grade and I've got things to do." But instead, I said, "no, i could lose my license for a drug conviction, and basides, there's random drug screens in my profession. I shouldn't have even taken that Tylenol 3 last week." He said, good, because most people don't realize that it damages your lungs.

Uh. Well, thanks, doc. I'll keep that in mind before I take up a new habit.

 

 

2 comments:

  1. No, no, no, I blew past the 10th grade when I fell below 193. Now I'm back in the 8th grade at 187. In the unlikely event I hit 160 I'll be in the 6th grade and if I hit 110 I'll be in the 2nd grade and, most likely, legless or a corpse.

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  2. Who the heck weighs 187 in the 8th grade? I know this is all about you but I can't get over that nor can I stop thinking about how glad I am that I didn't have to feed the 10th, 8th, or 6th grader!!

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