La Mer

We made an impromptu trip to the beach today. I fussed a little -- none of my shorts fit, so I had to lop off a pair of khakis. I ended up looking a little like Smee from "Peter Pan," complete with red cap (bandanna). I grumped at Hubs for not packing more towels, or snacks, or drinks. Not a great start to our trip.

I had a minor panic attack when we (me, Hubs, Kid) walked over the hill and onto the beach. There were people -- not a huge crowd, but more than I'd expected. I immediately felt self-conscious and wanted to go home. But I didn't. I wanted my son to play in the sand, and the water, and have fun with his daddy. Hubs, of course, could care less what anyone thinks and walked straight into the water with Kid in his arms, not caring that he was in shorts instead of swim trunks, not caring that people were looking at us like we were kooky European tourists. I stood uncomfortably on the sand, taking pictures with my phone and trying to act like I didn't think everyone was staring at me.

And then it occurred to me that I was letting these stupid, completely ridiculous, self-defeating feelings get in the way of me having fun with my family. I felt like an idiot. Who cares what random people on a beach think of me? Really. WHO CARES?

So I put my phone away and waded into the water, getting my shorts and shirt and everything else completely soaked. It felt so good. I forgot how much I love the water, the sand, the sun, the breeze. It felt so good that I decided on the spot to come back again, and soon, and in my bathing suit, and everybody can kiss my fat, lumpy behind. I want to have fun again.

The Fear

I tried changing up my run this morning (yes, I'm already done at 3:50AM). Instead of running a whole 1.25/1.5 miles, I started with five minutes of walking. Then I ran half a mile, then walked a quarter mile, then ran another half mile. I was going to walk another quarter and finish with a half, but I had to stop. Why? Because I started hyperventilating. Argh!

This hasn't happened since my panic attack on the track (hey, that rhymes!). This time, I totally felt it coming, but I couldn't stop it. I started to feel a little weirdness in my ribs on the right side, and before I knew it, I couldn't breathe (or at least that's what it felt like). It's hard to explain the feeling...it's almost like that feeling you get right before you cough, where you can't quite get the air all the way down into the bottom of your lung.

So the next question is, why did this happen? What was I thinking about when it happened? Oh yeah...the 5k. And how I'm nervous about running in public, running outside, running so slowly that the guy in the golf cart will have to haul me to the finish. Stupid, irrational, ridiculous, overblown fears. Excuses waiting to happen.

Today I'm going to be thinking about what I'm really afraid of, and when I run tomorrow, I'm NOT going to hyperventilate again. DO YOU HEAR ME, LUNGS? DO YOU HEAR ME, BRAIN? Y'all are going to cut the shit, and we're going to do this.