So, this weekend I went to a couple of plant sales. Because I am an addict. I go to these things and am all, "Yay perennials! Ooh! What's-that-must-have-it-don't-know-where-to-put-it-who-cares pretty pretty pretty wheeee!" (And yet I still haven't planted the vegetable garden. WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?)
Ahem. So, I went to a couple of plant sales and on the drive from the first to the second, I was feeling... off. Just weird. Kinda down, kinda anxious. Stomach in knots. Weird. I'm not an anxious person, and it was a beautiful day and I was doing something I love. What the hell? And then it hit me. Last year, the afternoon after I went to these very same plant sales I started bleeding. I mean, really bleeding after weeks of on and off spotting. I was all of twenty weeks pregnant. Ah HA!
Apparently the body holds memories of its own.
So, it would seem this is the beginning of the anniversaries. I'm not good with anniversaries (just ask Tom, poor fella). And to top it off, I'm PMS-y, which is just, you know, AWESOME. From here on out, every day is another anniversary of when everything went to hell. Yeah. Feeling stunningly well equipped to deal.
On the other hand, I AM stunningly well equipped for my inaugural run. Sneakers, check! Running shorts, check! Ratty t-shirts, check! Strong and limber body, AHAHAHAHA. If any of my muscles haven't seized up in unyielding cramps afterward, I'll let you know how it goes.