Happy New Year!

You were expecting a race report today, weren’t you?  Well guess what, you don’t get one because I didn’t get to race. 

Friday’s death march was a clear indication that something was very wrong.  I couldn’t stop coughing through dinner, through the movie or through the night.  Bill was convinced I had pneumonia.  I told him it wasn’t pneumonia but I did acknowledge that if I was going to complete Sunday’s race, it would be on pure adrenaline because I had nothing left.

The reality is, I tried to push through and I couldn’t.  In fact, I found myself visiting the doctor on New Year’s Eve to learn I had a raging sinus/ear/throat infection which was now manifesting itself in my lungs as bronchitis.  The doc took one look in my right ear (the good ear, mind you), sucked in a deep breath and said, “Wow.  That is really infected.”  She let out an expletive when she peeked in the left one.  I almost cried when she tapped my sinuses and taking a deep breath so she could listen turned into a five minute death rattle.  She looked at me very seriously and said, “I’m sorry but you aren’t going to be running tomorrow.” 

I was defeated, absolutely and completely defeated.  As she handed me a thick stack of prescriptions and rattled off varying instructions, all I could think was, “What a great way to start the new year.”  I was angry, disappointed but mostly just sad because THIS was my race, my consolation prize for not getting into two different half marathons in December, my great way to start the new year, my way of proving to myself that I absolutely CAN do this.  Instead, I was being prescribed 15 hours of codeine induced sleep and puffing on an inhaler anytime I tried to walk from the couch to the bathroom. 

This is Emma. She would like me to stop coughing so she can get her beauty sleep in.

The reality is, I am pretty tough and the doctor was careful to point out that while I could not run on New Year’s Day, I would be able run short distances the remainder of the week with the aid the aforementioned inhaler.  I just needed to take it easy.  And get tubes put in my ears again but that is a whole other discussion.   It was also determined that I am no longer Typhoid Mary so yes, I should drown my sorrows with all my friends at New Birthmas.  Of course, by drown my sorrows she meant into Dr. Pepper Ten and cupcakes since alcohol doesn’t mix well with the prescription cocktail before me. 

Delicious cupcakes!

So there you have it.  No race report for you.  But I do have a bit of a party report.

How does one decorate for New Birthmas?  I’ll tell you:  with three festively decorated artificial trees.  Check these babies out:

Merry Christmas

Happy New Year!

Happy Birthday!

You celebrate with friends.  For example, Karen and I look so happy here.  Actually, I am happy because I am wearing 4” heels that make me taller than Karen.  Karen is pissed because I am taller and have more ample cleavage.  We love each other. 

We do that gift stealing game where everyone brings a gift up to $10 in value and we draw numbers to pick presents then frantically try to steal from everyone else.  This one was wrapped to perfection:

Utilizing excellent strategy, I won the amazing Chinese dragon bookends for my library (they are AWESOME!).  Unfortunately, Karen and Nikki both had the idea that they should give me a singing Justin Beiber toothbrush in addition to the game.  I hate the Beib with a passion.  I mean A PASSION.  So now he can sing, “Baby, Baby” to me for two minutes while I brush my teeth.  Maybe while I clean the toilet.

Then we all donned Perry the Platypus tattoos because we are just too cool for school.

Mine somehow ended up here, KAREN.

So then we sent and lit fireworks.  My favorite was this chicken that shoots flames and blows up a balloon. 

But then there was this one that went off for 10 full minutes, changing colors and such.  It is hard to get perspective here but it shoots about 12 feet into the air and was oh so pretty.

We left the party early (I know, I know, party foul) to go see Adam Carolla. 

See? Here he is!

Great show but I understand I missed a taser incident.  I’m not sure if I am happy or sad about that.  But as you can see, despite the fact that I was literally on death’s door step (okay, not really but I was actually VERY sick) I had a great time:

And while I was supposed to just lay around and rest yesterday, I achieved one of my New Year’s Resolutions:  finish unpacking my suitcase from Scotland.  Uh yeah, I did the laundry but nothing else.  Well guess what?  It’s all unpacked and done.

Look what I found! Heather carefully pressed in my bib from Oban. I thought I lost it. Of course, how would I know if I had lost it since I hadn’t even finished unpacking my suitcase?

So that is one item off my list.  Next resolution?  No more bronchitis.  Okay, that’s not really a resolution but I would like this thing out of my chest so I can get back to my real life, thank you.  And by real life, I mean that one where I run all the time. 

Happy New Year’s!  Make it a good one!

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