Something was rotten in the state of Denmark

*tap*tap*tap*

Is this thing on?

Yeah, I know it's been awhile.  Yeah, I know that like 2 people read this.  I haven't forgotten about my dear blog, but I really haven't had a whole lot to say.  I was running, and I was doing fairly well with it.  Sure, my times weren't pretty, but I had worked my way up to a 5 miler.  I have an app to keep track of my stats - really didn't feel the need to post them here.

So, like I said.  I was running.  And then, I didn't feel well. I'd had this "not feeling well" on and off for the last couple of years, but I'd get up the next morning and be fine.  Most evenings, I went on my run anyway.  Until I REALLY didn't feel well.  Like 5 days in a row of feeling so horrendous that I caught myself googling "how can you tell if you're having a heart attack?"  It was about the time of that particular google search that I had the epiphany that I was being utterly stupid and made myself an appointment with my family doc.

Long story short, after several office visits, EKGs (to rule out the "big scary stuff" first), x-rays and an abdominal ultrasound, my diagnosis was confirmed.

My gallbladder had gone rogue.

(Wait a minute.  What??  Isn't that what old ladies complain about?)

Anyhoo, I was referred to a surgeon by my family doc, met with him, and he was kind of a dick. So, I gathered referrals from friends and family and found someone else.  I had my consultation, scheduled my surgery date, and here I am 5 days post-op.  Bruised and tender, but feeling pretty sassy for having an organ missing. There's a new sheriff in town, you guys.

Have to admit, I'm super nervous about the race in September.  I think had things gone smoothly, I could have had myself ready for the 13.1 miles coming up in 7 very short weeks.  I wasn't expecting any hiccups, particularly giant ones that made me park my running shoes in the closet for close to two months.  I keep reminding myself - I'm not running it to win it.  I'm running it to do it.  Complete it.  Cross the finish line.  To show myself that I can.  It may take me a little longer than planned, but I will still cross the finish line.