heart monitors, treadmills, and 6 am wake-up calls

So it's about 12:40 in the morning, and I have to be up at 5:45. I just finished my one book (the non-French women) and it was hilarious, insightful, and much needed inspiration from a women that I feel is a lot like me when it comes to running.

See, I loathe running. I don't see the point of it, unless you are running from something really bad or scary, or you're running to something totally awesome. I hope a naked Brad Pitt holding a giant banana split with 50 can can dancers and fireworks are at the end of my 26.2 miles. Somehow I fear that at the end of my 26.2 miles, (which maybe anywhere from 6 hours to 10 days at this point) everyone will have gone home at that point. I won't even get to congratulate Kenyan Steve on his 5th Chicago Marathon win. Damnit.

I go in a few hours for my EKG and stress test. After I cross train aka bike downstairs at 6am. WTF? When do I EVER get up at 6am, especially to warm up with a workout for another workout. The cool thing is I get to put sticky heart monitors on me and feel like a lab rat. I'm still holding hope that one of these doctors will go WHAT THE HELL and slap me and bring me back to reality. This is just the fear talking. I will just ignore it.

My knee has a small bump under it, and it hurts a tiny bit. I think I'm imagining things. Did I mention I get to pant and almost pass out in my baggy t-shirt and spandex-ish pants in a few hours in a room full of people? Who the hell thought it was a good idea to make spandex anything in my size?! What is wrong with these people? I look like an oddly shaped grey pear. It is not a pretty sight. Thankfully I'm still walking during training at this point. See, years of a fat southern style cooking from my country family has taken it's toll, and I'm a prettty big girl. So I would assume if people see me running at them, they will run away, assuming that if this fat chick is running, she must be running from something pretty scary. Oh, if they only knew. I'm just waiting to scare small dogs and children next.

But the bright side is I am burning more calories than I consume, which means weight loss! And better health! My clothes are already looser. Fascinating I tell ya. That's really the main reason behind this crazy idea of a marathon. Nothing has made me care about my health. I don't want to die at 25, and the road I've taken thus far is leading to that. Mental picture, I weight close to 300 lbs. I carry it better than some fat people, but no doubt about it, no point in lying, I'm fat. I am not happy with this, never have been. I am not one of those content jolly fat folks that are like "oh give me some more cake, look at my button pop off my shirt, too funny, haha." I've always been pretty unhappy with my body. It's held me back a lot in life in many different situations, and I would have given anything to change my lifestyle back when I started gaining weight. But nothing (and I mean nothing) has made me care enough to change it. It took a crazy ass goal and telling everyone I know (and then some) about it to scare me into actually caring. And the payoff from just this past almost month has been worth it thus far. My family is proud of me actually doing something to fix my health, I feel better, my new dress from graduation is too big (damn, and after I finally found a plus size dress that was cute and didn't look like a sack of potatoes) and I feel much more energized. The plus is finally outweighing the minus.

Well enough rambling. Time for a bit of shut eye before the big scary spandex clad doctor test. Wish me luck!