Some Perspective For Myself.

I've been REALLY uncomfortable lately.
Running has been really good to me, but it's had a few side effects this pregnancy that have caused a few moments of pain.
By a few, I mean, sometimes I cry.
But crying is better than not running.  For my brain and for my weight gain tally, anyway.

Last month, insomnia - my ever present friend, reared her ugly head.
I put a female pronoun to insomnia because I equate it with that really annoying girl in the cabin at summer camp that won't STFU. 
Which was sometimes me, probably, but that's beside the point.  Insomnia is very much female in nature.


So, during the week - I never actually hear my alarm go off.  Because I wake up about 15 minutes before it is scheduled to go off.  I promise, encounter this problem - and fifteen minutes will never look small again.  
So, this morning I headed to the gym a little early.

And turned on CNN, instead of VH1 or TNT.

Then I cried.

Because Jose Ojeda (sp?) was emerging from that missile-like capsule and it was amazing.
Hormones may have played a small role.... 
Hugging his step-daughter/niece.  (CNN was very confused on the particulars)
Very much alive.

So, I channel surfed a bit - not wanting to get nicknamed "crying girl" by my gym compadres.

And I thought.  [Don't worry.  Nobody was harmed in the making of this thought.]


"Waiting for Christmas morning is really effing hard.  Like 'Ants in my pants made me do the boogey dance' kind of hard.
But, imagine what it must feel like for that guy who is going to get hauled up last?  
That shit would blow your mind, Self. 
You can handle being pregnant for 8 more weeks.  
That guy was stuck in a mine for that long, in a room the size of your bathroom - with forty other dudes. 
That shit would also blow your mind.  (internal laugh at my own joke...)
Smile today."


And, I have.