My dad is going to give me a heart attack

I typically talk to my dad two or three times a week. I'll call him some mornings on my way to work. We almost always talk during OU football games. But we rarely talk during my workday.

So on the rare occasion my dad calls while I'm working, I know it's not good.

Last time, it was to tell me the daughter of a family friend had been killed in a car wreck. The time before that, he told me that a very close family friend had only a few days to live (cue me crying at my desk). I could go on.

I've gotten to where seeing my Dad's number pop up on my phone during my workday makes my heart feel heavy and my pulse race at the same time. I answer with a variation of, "Who is it this time?" and listen intently to his first words for any clues about the closeness of whoever he's calling about, while repeating over and over in my head, Please let Grandma and Grandpa be OK.

Today, I went with, "Is everyone OK?" Dad's answer, of course, was no. He went on to name an aunt & uncle, and then he filtered down to their son. A 2nd cousin I didn't see much because they didn't come to our family reunions very often. He was 33, and he was killed in a car accident not long before the phone call.

I remember his sister much better because she was closer to my age. We message from time to time on FB. I learned of the accident before their grandmother, and before a lot of our other family because my grandpa has to spread the word.

I feel terrible for my cousin and for my other family members, especially his sister. I'd be devastated if anything happened to my brother.

I feel bad to say that I'm relieved it wasn't someone I'm closer to. But still, nearing an hour after Dad's phone call, I don't feel right yet. My heart is still heavy, and my anxiety level is still high.

I'm tempted to ask Dad to hold all phone calls until after work ...

Damn hormones!

Obviously I have a lot of things to catch you guys up on, like actually telling about my marathon, and sharing pictures from a camping trip a few weeks ago, when I slept outside for the first time in my life. 

But there’s something a bit more pressing to share. It’s more pressing because it’s been kind of sudden. Or I’m guessing that it’s becoming that way. 

In the past, I’ve actually started a post a couple times about my thoughts on children (I never published them because I was afraid they'd come out the wrong way). About how once I got Piper and realized how badly I wanted people to like her and how protective I felt about a freakin’ dog, I also realized there’s no telling how ridiculous I’d be with a child. Not to mention when you consider how protective I am over my perfectly capable little brother, who I still refer to as my “little” brother despite the fact he’s 6’2” and 26 years old. 

I decided I wanted nothing to do with having a child. Maybe ever. Because the world doesn’t need that level of sanity, and ohmygosh do they ever stop crying? 

I heard them all around me. Crying. Begging. Demanding attention. I saw exhausted parents and parents who seemed to make their lives revolve around their kids. I saw dirty fingers. I saw minivans.

I realized I could see myself being ready for a family in 10, maybe 15 years (with an SUV, of course). Only I’d be 35 or 40 by that point (remember, this was a couple years ago). Plenty of people have started families at that age, but surely I’d want to start one before that. 

Thankfully, K was just as opposed to the idea of kids anytime soon as I was. 

Only he’s actually good with them. Kids love K. I’m the awkward one. I overthink the entire interaction. Oh my God, this kid’s handing me a Crayon. What am I supposed to do? Tell him thanks, or give it back? Am I supposed to hide it so he doesn’t color on the walls? Am I supposed to ask him what color it is? Shitshitshitshit!

And then ER had a baby. 

And then Danielle got pregnant.

Along with everyone I'm friends with on FB.

And I read blogs written by amazing mothers who have beautiful children who occasionally misbehave (like everyone) and sometimes have dirty fingers. But it’s great to see the moms' whole perspective, especially since I’ve watched these babies’ entire lives! Not to mention the fact that these moms manage to live for their kids (as it should be), but still hold onto themselves and do all the things they loved before the baby.

I had wondered if maybe I was missing the "mom gene," which would be crazy since I’d been labeled the mom in a group of friends a couple times. Maybe my aversion was to babies. I was relieved to talk to friends who said that the “switch” had flipped quickly for them. Or the ones who said they felt awkward around kids too, until they had their own. That it all came naturally. 

Lately, as I’ve been taking advantage of holiday sales (whoops!) for my professional winter wardrobe, I’ve thought to myself, Should I be buying clothes right now? Not because I feel guilty for taking advantage of Christmas sales for myself, but because I worry if I’ll be fitting into them much longer. *ahem ahem*

Then, last weekend, while hanging out with K’s family and his cousin’s 2-year-old son, I heard this weird voice in the back of my mind: I want one. 

Only I don't. I don't feel like I want one.

Not just yet. So where did that come from? Is my brain just preparing me for that time? Or am I in extreme effing denial? I've considered before that my ridiculous preoccupation with not wanting a child was a little suspicious.

I’ve thought about this dozens of times. It used to go like this: We could have a kid. I could handle that. It's just the responsibility of raising it that I don't want. I still want to be selfish and spontaneous.

Now, it’s a bit more detailed: We could do this. K and I could have a kid … Only we don’t really have room for one. We still need a guest room, so we’d have to use the office. Dang it! I like the office how it is. Maybe we could just throw a crib in there. It’s not like we’ll be here that much longer anyway. ... (Don't worry, I wouldn't just throw a kid in the office.)

And money. I mean, we're financially stable, but bring-a-kid-into-the-picture financially stable? 

I’ve told K (hesitantly) the things I’ve been thinking, and he's seemed pretty unphased. I haven't brought it up to anyone else yet, but I already know what ER will say. She'll tell me what her doctor told her: that most people don't ever feel like they're perfectly ready to have a child. They just make room for it.

Is that what's happening here?

Is this how it starts? Or am I just getting less vehemently opposed and more comfortable with the possibility? 

MLIB, Marathon Runner

We ran. And ran. And ran. But we finished, and we had a pretty awesome pace.

It was painful, it was torture, and I'm pretty sure we're insane for doing it, but it's done.

We're done.

I'm never doing that again.

An additional challenge

We put off as long as we could today our last training run -- 2 miles. A nice, easy run, which we had to keep to a slow pace. We decided to bring Piper along.

One thing I haven't mentioned on here is that I have tachycardia. Having two bad knees isn't quite enough for me. Nope, I have to throw a heart condition into the mix.

We had gone just over a mile when Piper made it clear she needed to stop. K took her leash, and I leaned over to clean up. Just then, my pulse started going.

I've seen a doctor about my tachycardia before, obviously. It's nothing life-threatening, just a huge pain in the a$$. Basically, what happens is that from time to time, my pulse starts going really quickly. Like over 200 beats a minute. Sometimes it lasts a couple seconds; one time it lasted a couple hours. If an episode lasts long enough, it makes me feel tired, and it can even make my arm hurt. I have to take deep breaths. But as soon as it's done, I'm fine. Completely back to normal.

My doctor gave me the option to take beta blockers for it, but that would mean my pulse would never raise, not even during workouts, and I'd get fatigued more quickly. Something about that sounded like not living, so I chose not to take them. What that means is that if my pulse starts going, I have to immediately halt any physical activity.

My doctor knew I intended to run a marathon someday and that I was active with cycling, running, and working out at the time. "You mean to tell me that if you have an episode in the middle of a marathon, you're just going to stop running?"

"Yes."

What can be good is that these "episodes" typically come in spurts. What's bad is that I haven't had one in a while ... until today. Luckily, today's only lasted a couple minutes.

See that 237? That's my maximum heart rate during the run, thanks to my tachycardia.

If you don't mind, please keep an extra set of fingers crossed for me that if my pulse decides to mess around with me tomorrow, it waits until the afternoon.

Ready or not ...

As you know, K and I have spent the last 18 weeks training for our first (and what we intend to be our only) marathon. Our training began on July 13, at the height of summer barbecues and trips to the beach, with a modest three-mile run. We ran through high heat, early mornings, and a few times even late nights. 

These 18 weeks have affected every aspect of our lives: our sleep schedule, our meals, our water intake (we're human camels now), energy levels, sex lives, weekend schedules, activities, gym time (we haven't been in weeks!), our kitchen (we eating everything in sight, and we don't want to waste energy going to the store), and even the tidiness of our house. We ran 9 miles when we were in Oklahoma for a wedding; we ran 12 miles when we were in Pennsylvania for a birthday party.

We reached the peak of our training on October 20, when we ran 21 miles. 

Twenty-
one
miles.

We have run almost 300 miles over the course of our training. We have gone through countless bottles of Gatorade and packets of Gu (let's just say we've been buying them by the case!). We've even gone through a couple pairs of shoes. And it all comes down to Saturday. 

Our marathon begins at 8 a.m. I'm hoping we've crossed the finish line by 12:30 (if our actual start time is right at 8). No matter what, though, we'll be proud of ourselves for accomplishing this feat.

And as a heads-up, if you have stock in Gatorade and/or Gu, you might want to sell it by Saturday.