Yesterday I ran my 1000th mile of 2008. It has been my goal to pass that mile mark for several years, but so far, I have never gotten there. One thousand miles is, unimpressively, only about 20 miles a week over the span of one calendar year. The real difficulty lies in making those distances consistently, through heat waves and downpours, injury, broken bones, sickness, weddings, travel, school, work, and occasionally, extreme and prolonged discomfort.
Lately I have found running quite impossible as the last few months have been perhaps the most profoundly uncomfortable months of my life.
Sick, sick, very sick
They call it 'morning sickness' but I think 'unceasing wretched agony' is more accurate. I have hardly run since the marathon, but I think about it every single day. I just CANNOT(period) barely do it. I cannot, almost not overcome the lethargy. I am etiolated and panting from exhaustion, spring tears at the sight of an unfold pair of pants or the audacious smell of someone breathing across the room....
(seriously, do they have to do that?)
...and quite frankly, I will never do this 'knocked up' thing again. I think I should just have the baby now and then Clark and I can take turns sitting on it, avian style. In fact, I am ready for my epidural, please.
But I got my 1000th mile and my whole family ran with me (Clark and Owen and I (running for two!)*), and through all that, all 800,000 foot falls over the last year, I haven't learned at all how to be stoic about a touch of (air quotes) "morning sickness." I am such a wimp.
*Of course Willie didn't run. Duh. I count her there in spirit.
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