Damn girl, that's a lot of fattitude

I nearly died again, so I thought it’d be fun to make another MS Paint demonstrating this!

Let me set the scene for you.

So, I get every morning at 5am and I have to be at work at 6am. I work four 10 hour days a week. It takes me 35 minutes to get to work (and usually an hour to get home – fml). I have a very set and structured routine in the AM. I set my clothes out the night before, shower the night before, make my lunch the night before, etc. I love working out in the morning, but 4am is tough to get up at. I’d prefer working out after work, but mentally I hate it. It’s a legit Catch 22. I also understand that with serious training coming up for my half marathon, in the prevention of death and/or them calling the fatty relief wagon on me, I will probably have to get up at 4am because honestly, running after working 10 hours is some bullshit.  I have some exercise soul searching to do.

Alright, so Sunday comes and it’s the last day of Thanksgiving vacation. I’m looking at my fridge, packing my lunch for the next day and realize that my half marathon training is starting this coming week. I also realize I’ve got my dates wrong on my half training schedule and I’m now behind. FML. So, even though I would technically not run on a Monday I decide that since I’m already behind, I’ll run on a Monday. Specifically tomorrow.

My insomnia has other plans. It’s all “HAHAHAHA – no sleeping tonight! Good luck getting up at 4am!” So, I undoubtedly fall asleep at 3am and decide to sleep until 5am so I don’t kill myself on my drive in. What I don’t realize is that I will try to kill myself leaving for work instead. So, after tossing and turning, I get up at like 445 and leave 15 minutes early. I’ll let MS Paint do the talking now.

All is good currently. Side note – I’d now like to repaint my garage stairs. They look nasty.

And then my left foot slips at the top of the stairs and I am royally fucked. There are no hand rails. There is nothing to immediately grab. I know I am done. I am trying to tuck and roll, but as you can see, there isn’t much space. I do a full somersault and smack my head into my car.

I hit my car with such force that I then smacked my head on the concrete garage floor.

I lay there in hysterics for a few minutes trying to figure out if I’ve broken anything and if I’m dead. I finally manage to stand and stumble my way to the inside stairs, where I collapse in pain. My wailing bring Kevin running downstairs in a panic. I’m sobbing in pain, and trying to calm myself down because I’m now dry heaving from how hard I hit my head and the crying is making the pain worse. (It’s a good thing I eat breakfast at work or else I’d have then been cleaning up that mess.)

Kevin puts a band-aid on my foot, as I didn’t even realize I was bleeding. He makes me sit there for like 20 minutes before letting me leave for work to make sure I didn’t die.

My headache has gone away, for the most part. I don’t know what is fertility drugs/PMS/concussion at this point. I probably should have been checked out, but we all remember how good I am at that, right?  I can’t sleep on one side because of my head and the bruising on it. It physically hurts to apply pressure and the chord that runs along my neck on the left side hurts when I move. Probably whiplash.

Long story short – I did not run on Monday. And I haven’t run yet this week. And I don’t really know when I will. It still hurts to walk.

I am too damn big and too damn old to be falling so damn hard.