What a long, strange trip it's been

Monday morning. I must get in to work by 8am this morning (I've already notified Amnesty -- they've got me on hold), so I'll post more later, but I just wanted to say that the past week has been the worst trainwreck of a week, health wise, that I can remember. I ate like a pig, drank every night during the conference, and exercised once. Yes, you read that correctly, Dear Readers. Combined with the previous week's dearth of activity, that means I've walked like three hours when I was supposed to do like 13, according to the schedule. I don't even know, at this point, if I can recover and get back to where I need to be. I'm going to try to do the nine mile walk I was supposed to do on Saturday after work today in place of the rest day (believe me, I've done more than enough resting!), then get back on schedule starting with tomorrow's one hour interval training walk. For anyone who happens to be reading (and, seriously, bless you if you've managed to stick with me through last week's hiatus), I'm starting to panic here. This marathon has been my dream for so long that I can't remember a time when it wasn't my wildest dream to complete the LA Marathon...and I see it slipping away from me. Doubt has always been there, right at the edge of my consciousness, saying, "you're too fat to complete a marathon", "you're a failure, you always have been, and you always will be", and other, life affirming things. I feel like crying and eating everything in sight, all at once. This cannot continue.

I'll be back later with more...


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