happy hearts day

I had a scary thing happen this week. 

Actually, it was last week. Last week I did that one thing that no nursing student in his or her right mind would ever do (aside from pushing potassium. We know that'll kill someone faster than I can blink.). 

I did that thing reserved for those outside our profession, those who can't handle the stress, the blood, guts, and gore. 

I DFO'ed. 

I Done. Fell. Out.

I had an awesome morning in the nursery... Hold up. 

Some background: 

I think I officially hate this rotation. I'm not connecting with this clinical instructor and I can't seem to do anything right and pregnant ladies and babies have systems so foreign to me, it's almost like I don't have lady parts! 

Hate. 

To make matters worse, when a person says they hate ob, it automatically sounds like "I hate babies" which  equates to having some innate problem with humanity, or other serious, deep-seated issue. 

And that's exactly what I want to do: run around screaming "I have issues", 'cause that's sexy. Really. Happy valentine's day to me.

So, anyway, last week, without the worry of a postpartum mom bleeding out, I was actually enjoying myself. Within fifteen minutes of walking in to the nursery, I'd changed five diapers and had my fingers in twins' mouths trying to soothe them (their mom insisted on no pacifiers). 

I was happily rocking babies when we started the twins' assessments.

We'd gotten through assessing Twin B and were beginning Twin A when I had a horrible feeling of nausea. I was light headed, sweaty, and desperate to move from the heating lamp Twin A was under. 

I had to sit down.

The nurse looked at me and said "you're green!" 

A chair magically appeared under me. I remember being really tired. Like, unable to keep my eyes open tired. 

And then I remember someone calling my name just as I simultaneously peed myself and realized the nurse was straddling my leg. (Mom, I realize that your record of saying that I never peed myself after the day you told me about big girl underwear is now over. Sorry.)

"Do you know where you are?" 

I assured her I did. I was also probably looking at her like she had decided to shave half her head- in the middle of the day.

"You had a little seizure there, Sweetheart." 

Oh, boo.

So there I was, sitting in my own urine, feeling confused, nauseous, and mildly light headed, when my professor walked in. 

Awesome.

New scrubs appeared in a blink. I was whisked to the ER for further testing.

All of which came back negative. 

"We're calling this syncope", they say, which I like better than "you had a seizure". Follow up with your health care provider. Oh, and get an echocardiogram. 

I went to the doctor today as a valentine's gift to myself. A heart check up for valentine's, every girl's dream. The gal (ohmygawd, I'm 60) I see is an NP. She is also my future drinking buddy. She just doesn't know it yet. 

Today she discovered an aortic murmur. Today I came one step closer to figuring out why my heart rate falls suddenly, causing me to become dizzy and nauseated. Today I took a step away from being a statistic. 

The PSA part of this post: 

(Hey, I'm just doing my part, people)

Heart disease is responsible for 35% of deaths in women over age 20. It now kills more women than men each year. As I'm learning, it can affect people who otherwise seem healthy. 

So what I'm really saying is, go get your heart checked out. Every year. 

Evidently I'll be getting that echo after all.

High on RTR

I remember thinking last year that Red Top Rumble may just be my favorite race of all time.

I like the small (400 people) group, the winding trails that wrap around the lake, and that delicious single track. I like that I've gotten lucky with good weather. Glorious weather, really.

I like the raffle by race number tent where I won my first random drawing prize ever. Usually I'm lucky enough to be the "random" winner at the airport screening area (Yes, I'd love you to go through all my stuff and no you don't have to fold it back the way it was, thanks!) or police check point or some other un-fun thing. But RTR? They have fun stuff at their raffle. Stuff like massages, shirts, race belts, snacks... (who doesn't love snacks?!)

The other thing I love about Red Top is that I am always inspired to do more after the run.

Not just in a "wow, that was fun, let's do it again because I'm really sadistic" kind of way... 

But yeah, that's exactly what I mean, who am I kidding?!

'Cause that's what I will be doing October 14. 

My race bag had adverts for other races. 

When they are all trail based, I am inspired to believe that I, too, can do them. 

Even when they are of distances that make my eyes bleed.

Like the Mystery Mountain Marathon.

Which is what I've just signed up for.

As a cascade of "holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit this is a lot of shit, what am I thinking? Holy shits" screams in my brain, all I can do is giggle and think "Man, I love this race".

(Evidently the half life of Red Top Rumble is way over 36 hours.)

Talking dirty at RTR

My favorite part about riding to races with other people is that things that would not be permissible at the dinner table suddenly become common place. 

Like, "when I did my Ironman, one of the Port-o-potties had shit mounded up above the toilet seat". 

"I mean, can you imagine? It was dark. What if somebody really had to go and they sat down?"

Um, I don't care how badly you have to go; it is NEVER ok to sit on a port-o-pot seat. Just sayin'.

When we got to the race start: "Oh my gawd; that one has poo over the water line! Eeeew."

This is more proof that we runners are full of crap.

So, yeah. 

After crying about how awful I was feeling the other day, I got up and ran. And then because a friend made running sound like fun (and because I was trippin about running 12 miles next weekend at race pace, I figured I'd better get my ass in gear), I ran again that same day.

And I will do it again next week.

Not the two a day cause that makes me cry like a little girl.

The night run part.

And then I ran Red Top Rumble today.

11.5 miles of awesomeness through the woods.

I think it's my favorite trail race.

Except for the fact that the women's t shirts are wicked short. I should prolly wear mine with a pair of mom jeans and call it good. Or hope belly shirts come back. 

I don't mean like belly shirts for teeny teenagers. I mean belly shirts for people with real bellies; the ones that can't help but to show it off like plumber's crack.

Sexy time.

I made new friends on trail and in the car on the way up.

(My apologies to those of you wanting to enjoy quiet time in the woods today. I understand that I may have been a bit of a Chatty Cathy on trail...)

The boot camp instructors I rode with today are hilarious! I laughed SO hard. They talk a lot of shit, but it's all in good fun. They also talk a lot about shit. Which is just par for the course when running.

Case in point: we drove around for an hour looking for a Starbucks that was open. (Le mega sigh. We are ridiculous, yes.) We then realized that we may have to drink conservatively as race time was near, and we all know what happens with coffee...

And then jokingly asking if a latte of an americano would make a bigger mess.

The run was 11.5 scenic miles that I was thoroughly unprepared for.

But I finished. 

With a smile.

 Man, I love that run!

BTW, I doubt I'll be walking tomorrow, so when you see me crawl by at a snail's pace, just smile and wave.

Thank you.