The good: There’s a lot of good. Namely that I didn’t night sweat to death last night. I still engaged in a bit of overnight perspiration, but not nearly as drastically as the past few nights. These little changes are making a huge improvement in my hourly moods.
The bad: I still slept like total crap. I think I got 5 hours of sleep, which isn’t sufficient, I realize. Luckily the steroids give me a bit of energy when I need it. Sometimes I wonder if I’m on Prednisone or crack, but either way I’m not complaining. So yeah, right around 3:30 am I woke up because I thought I had slept through my alarm. In reality, I still had an hour and a half of sleep time ahead, but my stomach was awake and pissed. I don’t know if I ate something I shouldn’t have yesterday or what, but this pain was semi-unbearable. I’m glad it eventually passed.
The thankful: Well let’s just get on with it, shall we?
I’m thankful for ART and Graston Technique. I had my third appointment with Dr. Levine yesterday, and as usual, he gave my left side a good ass kicking. I have the bruises to prove it, and they are magnificent. Some people say ART and Graston are painful, but I think the hurt is a fantastic one. He digs into my muscles and gives me that electric stimulation that makes my thighs jiggle like, well, jiggly thighs. And in the midst of all this, I think to myself, “One day I will run totally pain free and I love rainbows!”
Dr. Levine is on a mission to convince me that “ice is my friend.” But I know what ice really is: cold. And I don’t really think being cold is fun or pleasurable. Dr. Levine tells me I should “ice what hurts after every run,” but what he doesn’t realize is that, after every run, I have to eat breakfast while catching up on Twitter, Facebook and the “news” from Matt Lauer. Don’t make ridiculous requests, Levine. You’re crazy.
So instead, I’ve been icing various body parts in bed at night, under the warmth of my covers. Last night I iced my left shin, because it hurt. Note to self: Don’t chase cabs in four-inch heels. Idiot. Here is a Blair Witch Project-esque photo of an ice pack, under an ACE bandage, on my leg, above my stumpy, pale foot:
I’m thankful for this song:
I can’t stop singing it. I know four whole lines now. Pretty impressive, I know!
I’m thankful for Newsies on Broadway, and for having a job that allows me to see Broadway shows free of charge. I have paid for one show — The Book of Mormon for Brian’s birthday — in my entire life. I would say I’m spoiled by this, but I don’t think it’s considered a spoil if I’m actually working pretty hard for it.
Anyway, Newsies was fantastic and I recommend it if you’re into the whole “feel good and never stop smiling” thing. I kept secretly hoping there was going to be a “bring your tap dancing friend onstage” portion, but there wasn’t. So instead I bopped around in my seat, hoping the people sitting around me wouldn’t mind my slight humming during “Seize the Day” and my all-out belting during “The King of New York.”
I’m thankful my disease doesn’t control my life. Yeah, it affects it, that’s for sure. Remember when I used to eat foods I loved, like corn?
A few years ago, when I started working and getting flare-ups more regularly, I realized I had a decision to make. I could either give into getting sick or I could power through it. Maybe I’ll always be “that runner girl with Crohn’s,” and that’s OK. But I will never be “that girl who stopped running because she had Crohn’s.” My disease affects me, but it doesn’t define me. I like to think that my charm, wit, sarcasm and penchant for both good grammar and quoting Will Ferrell films are what define me. I guess that’s up for debate, so go to town. Also, I feel like I’m taking crazy pills! Zoolander is my fave.
I’m thankful for a family that welcomes me home every now and then, dirty laundry in tow. I have many traditions when I travel up to New Hampshire, all of which revolve around the most important tradition of all: outlet shopping. Mom and me, we simply do not like to pay full price for Banana Republic dresses and J.Crew button-downs. And so, we outlet shop. And we hide our purchases from my dad so as not to be scolded and asked, “Did you really need a pair of flip flops with little embroidered bugs on them?”
Unfortunately, this weekend many other traditions will have to take a backseat to another important thing happening on Sunday: throwing a baby shower for Michaela, my sister-in-law and mother-to-be. She’s due on May 22 and on Sunday we’re going to celebrate the heck out of her unborn, sex-TBD child with cupcakes and things. We’ll be busy. No time for bike riding.
This weekend, my mom wants to make time for pedicures, which is laughable since I’m currently sporting all of four toenails. Also, I hate running in NH because it’s boring (at least where my parents live), so I have scheduled a Saturday morning gym date with my dad.
You think I take the gym seriously? No, my dad takes the gym seriously.
He agreed to take me with him on his 6 am Planet Fitness excursion on Saturday, which is super generous since a guest pass is like, $6. But when I texted him to ask if we could wear matching outfits, he never responded. I guess I’ll just pack everything I own and assume my dad, too, has hot pink legwarmers and Saucony short shorts. Save me the elliptical next to you, Dad! We’re going to be adorable.
In reality, this gym trip will involve me being annoyed about having to run long on a treadmill, my dad powering through his “2 hour 40 minute” gym routine (no, I don’t know where my Type-A personality comes from, sorry) involving every machine ever invented, and then I will wait for my mom to pick me up while my dad is probably still on the elliptical. Then he goes to Panera and drinks coffee and reads the paper. I head off to go discount shopping and think about how my dad and I are so alike, and yet so different.
I’m also hoping that during this trip my mom will take me to Target. I have zero necessities at this time, so I should probably go spend $200 on things I obviously can’t live without, like A Walk to Remember on DVD, which has probably been marked down to $5.99. At a bargain like that, who can resist? Mandy Moore, you talented little devil.
I’m thankful my rent bill arrived the same day I’m supposed to pick up two year’s worth of dry cleaning. Just kidding. That sucks. I guess my winter coat can live over at King Yung Cleaners for another week.
I’m thankful for the Notes app in my phone.
I do my best writing when I am sleepy, and that’s why I keep my phone in bed with me…or as close by as possible. Why cuddle with a warm man when I can cozy up next to a sweet piece of technology?
And in case you’re wondering, Young Ali liked to make lists as well, and she wanted to share them with the world.
I’m thankful this is not my car:
I saw it this morning while I was “waiting for satellites,” and I laughed. Never park your car under a tree, man!
I’m thankful I had another stop-free run this morning! Eight miles, with no concern for pace (though they ended up being mostly sub-9:00 miles, which is yay-worthy). When I started to run, I was genuinely worried yesterday was a fluke and my stomach was going to be horrific. But after two miles in Central Park, which was perfect yet again, I didn’t even think about my stomach and just ran for the love of running. I sort of scooted all over the east side and added in a Bridle Path lap and a windy Reservoir lap.
The fact that I spent six miles without even thinking about my stomach is another huge improvement. It warranted another morning dance party, alone in my apartment, singing what I’m pretty sure was a Blink 182 song. I’m hip and trendy. I know what all the cool kids are listening to.
Also, the water fountains are all on in Central Park, and I’m really really really thankful for that. I took a photo while I did a post-run stretch. Yeah, that’s right. I stretched. I’m getting mature and wise.
I’m thankful for my new toothbrush. I love a good, new, bristly-in-a-good-but-kind-of-painful-way brush.
I’m thankful I decided not to run the Eugene Marathon. It’s been a much-needed relief.
I’m thankful for this past year. At times it has been challenging and exhausting, and it’s been excitingly busy the whole time. But I’m pretty sure I learned more about myself (and, you know, important life lessons about blogging and negative splitting and how to make the perfect, two-flavor 16 Handles concoction) over the course of these past 12 months than I did in all four years of college.
So do I get a tuition reimbursement now or something? How does that work? No child left behind? Is that…is that what this is? No? OK.
This is getting a touch longer than I intended, so I think I’ve made my point: I am wicked thankful for everything in the world today. Got it? Great.
NOW DO YOUR PART: Tell me what you’re thankful for today! Cupcakes? Broadway showtunes? A great morning workout? A great night’s sleep?