HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE BEST DAY EVER.
All caps = Internet yelling = I am saying something of the utmost importance.
Yesterday was not the best day ever. Yesterday it took me two hours to get out of bed because of the whole stomach pain thing. I was quite literally doubled over and miserable.
As much as I haven’t wanted to resort to going on Prednisone (steroids) during this flare-up, yesterday I gave in. I was hoping the Remicade infusion I got last week would clear up this mess on its own, and I gave it a few days to flow through my system or do whatever it does. But by yesterday, I knew I needed to call in the big guns.
I’m kicking off this round of drugs by taking 60 milligrams a day, which is not too much (past flares usually start me at 80 mg/day, which is four pills as opposed to three) and hopefully won’t lead to brutally awful side effects.
Do you know what one mere dose of Prednisone will lead to, though?
A SUCCESSFUL RUN.
AGAIN WITH THE CAPS. My caps lock seems to be broken. I’m so sorry.
So my Twitter stream (is that what it’s called?) went from being all “womp womp” (real words, yes) to “Life is my favorite!”
Let me tell you a bit about this run, because it has me on Cloud 9,000 (real place) today.
I went to a spin class at my gym last night. It was so boring and made me feel spoiled from all the SoulCycle I’ve been doing. I had to force myself to log in to my bank account last night to reaffirm why SoulCycle is now off limits.
I did not sleep great last night. More sweating, more 1 AM costume changes, no big deal. If that’s the worst of my problems, I can certainly deal.
I woke up at 5 AM. My first thought as I stepped out of bed was, “Hey, that didn’t hurt my knee! Could it be because I’ve been icing and foam rolling so diligently?”
As I gently pat myself on the back and made my way to the bathroom, I realized that I didn’t have that mind-numbing pain I had yesterday when I woke up.
“This is good…this is progress,” I thought to myself.
And then, miraculously, I didn’t have to spend 400 hours in the bathroom and I was out the door before 6 AM!
Normalcy, is that you coming back?!
I set out for Central Park with no mileage plan (“six would be nice”) and certainly no pace plan. I didn’t know how my stomach would feel or how my knee or my hip or me, in general, would feel.
But once I started, I felt good. Really good. The weather was brisk (45 degrees I believe) but the park was perfect.
Could I have pushed my pace harder? Totally. But did this run feel easy the entire time? No. I want to ease back into things, and “speedwork” doesn’t count as “easing.”
I am, however, quite happy with how my pace and distance wrapped up: 7.25 miles, all hovering around my marathon goal pace (slightly under), which was definitely not the plan. It just happened.
I was seriously giddy when I finished this run. The best part?
No bathroom breaks.
No walk breaks.
I just can’t quit you, Steroids. I try to resist, but you take such good care of me. And now we can all be on the lookout for my Chipmunk Cheeks, which will inevitably surface in 2–3 weeks.
Central Park, thank you for starting my day the way I’ve been wanting to start my day for a long time. I am fully convinced that all is right in the world on this happy little Wednesday.
The next step on my grand journey is to wear actual professional clothes to the office. Since I first got sick about a month ago, I’ve been swearing by the whole “jeans and whatever shirt is semi-clean” look. I have been commuting in sneakers so as not to further aggravate the knee and hip issues, and some days I don’t even change out of the sneakers when I get to work. Heels? Who needs heels when you can cuff your jeans and be all “Working Girl?”
And just a hint: You can tuck in just about anything and people will think you look “pulled together” and not “lazy with unwashed hair and jeans that have not been washed since you bought them.”
Speaking of that, Mom can I bring my laundry home this weekend? I’ll do it myself (maybe). I should probably get some detergent running through these denims. Do people call jeans “denims?” I just did. I think it works.
So yeah, next up: real clothes. Not jeans. I mean, jeans are real and I love them, but I used to be into skirts and dresses and stuff. Remember the good ol’ days?
If you’re wondering where Brian has been lately (which I know you’re not, but I’m going to tell you anyway), here is basically what has happened between Brian and me:
- I got a Crohn’s flare-up. It was annoying.
- Brian ran a half marathon. He did great.
- I continued to be Crohnsy. I sweat through stuff, like pajamas and sheets and entire mattresses. Brian did not mention being impressed.
- Brian grabbed his passport and fled the country.
I’m not kidding. He left. He is currently on a 10-day Italian vacation, hitting up Rome, Venice, Florence and every other pasta-making city in that glorious country. I’d be pissed about it, since he’s over there eating 16 Gelatos while I’m here doing basically nothing, but the reason he’s all “Italian Vacation” is because he took his cute Italian grandmother there for her 80th (85th? 87th? I realize I should know this, but I’d like to continue my streak as “Girlfriend of the Year”) birthday. She had never been to Italy. So he took her.
I know, what a jerk.
To the one person who emailed me yesterday asking, “Is everything OK with you and Brian? He hasn’t been on your blog lately,” I am not sure if you were truly concerned or just a little sarcastic, but now you know the truth.
OK, to wrap this up: I know you are probably so sick of reading about my stupid stomach, and trust me, I’m sick of writing about it! I’m not completely flare-free yet, of course, but I’m hoping these drugs will continue to work strongly and I’ll be back to regular non-Crohn’s blogging very soon. Thanks for sticking with me in the meantime.
I’m heading home (my mom likes it when I call it that) to New Hampshire this weekend and am definitely looking forward to some quality family bonding time. I’ve missed those crazy llama-lovers up north!
I have no question to ask today. Just a big THANK YOU for being so nice, and for all the kind Tweets and comments and offers to send Cadbury Mini Eggs. You being nice leads to me feeling better. I think that’s the scientific reasoning behind this weird disease, but I’m not sure. I’ll find out.
And finally, a word from Third Grade Ali:
Have a great day!