I did it!

On Saturday I ran the St. George Marathon. It was my first marathon, and I entered the race lottery mostly because I didn't think I'd get in this year. I wasn't really convinced a marathon was something I wanted to do. I love half marathons, but pushing your body 26.2 miles is a whole different level of crazy. I did get in (obviously) and I spent the first two months of training looking for an excuse not to run it. But after running the TOU half in August, I got my race motivation back. I spent the next month worrying that I wouldn't be able to run. (And naturally, because I'm a hypochondriac I found 900 things wrong with myself. I was sure I had a stress fracture when my calf hurt during one run and that I was getting swine flu when my allergies flared up one day.)

I expected a marathon to be hard, but it was even tougher than I expected. I'm kind of proud of that, because I know part of what made it so much more difficult than my past races or training runs was that I pushed myself. So much so that when it was over I didn't have anything left - I just planted myself on a random patch of lawn until I could walk again. But I made my goal of running the whole time - no walking - and I shattered my "reasonable" goal of a 4:15 time. I even broke my "ultimate" goal of 4 hours and finished in 3:53! It was physically painful some of the time and I had to play mental games to keep myself motivated, but I did it. There's such a sense of satisfaction that come from conquering truly tough stuff.

I've had a couple people ask me if I was disappointed in having missed qualifying for Boston by mere minutes (well, 13...that's kind of a lot to shave off, but anyway...). I'm totally not. First of all, 3:53 is way better than I ever expected to do and you bet I'm proud of myself. But second, if you qualified for the Boston Marathon, wouldn't you feel like you should run it? I'm glad I ran this one, but I'm definitely not planning to make a habit of it. Now if you're looking for a half-marathon buddy on the other hand...give me a few weeks and let me know :)

Hypochondriac little me

Have I mentioned that I'm a bit of a hypochondriac? I am. A teensy bit. The irony is that in all my self-diagnoses, I never once suspected myself of it. I'd probably still be blissfully ignorant if my roommate Alicia hadn't pointed it out my last year of college. Luckily, Alicia is very tactful so when I asked her if she thought I should go to the hospital for a side ache I was sure had to be appendicitis and she said, "You know Kate, I think you might be a bit of a hypochondriac," I took it in stride.

And she was right - it wasn't appendicitis. Indigestion would probably be closer to the truth. I wish I could say that was the first time, but it wasn't. In fact, I can't tell you how many times I've lain awake at night with some kind of stomachache and debated waking up a roommate to take me to the ER. I CAN tell you how many times I've had actual appendicitis: zero.

Anyway, my mom has this medical book from a general medicine class she took. It's probably a bit (or significantly) outdated since it's older than me, but for some reason that book is gospel to me. Any time I get worried about a weird ache or pain, I call my mom. It goes like this:

"Mom, can you get The Book out?"

"The medical book?" (Really she doesn't need to ask. I've never asked about any other one.)

"Yeah. I think I have ________ (insert potentially fatal symptom)."

"OK," (completely unconcerned - after 25 years she knows where this is going) "I'm getting it. What's wrong?"

"Well, I have ______ (insert completely generic and not-likely-to-be-even-remotely-fatal, but COULD possibly be linked to cardiac arrest, symptom)."

"How long has that been going on?"

"At LEAST 20 minutes now."

"Mmmmhmmm. And what other symptoms do you have?"

I explain, she consults The Book (yes, I realize we have the Internet and WebMD now, but The Book just seems so much more...authoritative) and comes back with,

"It sounds like it's probably _______ (insert completely benign diagnosis). But if you pass out or have trouble breathing, you should go to the doctor."

I've developed quite a list of possible diseases, all of which have proved to be unfounded. I mentioned appendicitis (a repeat offender), here are some more.

I thought I had...	It was actually...
A tumor	A really big knot in my back
MS	Two strained leg muscles
Carpal Tunnel	Nothing at all
A parasite	An aversion to lactose (this one was at least something
Diabetes (I think this was the one to tip Alicia off)	Nothing at all.
An allergic reaction to a bee sting	Just a normal bee sting

What I find strange about all of this (and why I never suspected myself to be a hypochondriac), is I rarely go to the doctor. I may contemplate it quite a bit, but the symptoms usually disappear by the time I get around to it. And when I actually have something legitimately wrong with me, I'm sure I don't. Two winters ago when I had bronchitis, for example, I waited weeks to go to a doctor because I was sure it was just a cough and would go away on its own.

Anyway, what prompted this whole foray into my neurotic tendencies is that now that I'm aware of this quirk, I try to be extra cautious not to let my mind run away with minor symptoms. So every once in a while, I think, "Hey, that whole lactose intolerance thing is probably just in my mind. I probably hypochondriac-ed the whole thing up." And I eat some cheesecake to prove it to myself. I did this experiment again on Sunday (you think I would have learned by now) and for the record, it's not in my mind.