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Thursday, March 20, 2014

My Spaghetti Hernia

I have a spaghetti hernia.


Okay, in actuality, I have been diagnosed with a spigelian hernia, but I think spaghetti hernia sounds better and is much easier to remember.  Don't ya think? 

I was a good girl.  I swear.  After my last "marathon", I did just what you are supposed to do:  recover.  I took a full six weeks off, allowing my body more than ample time to heal before hitting the roads again, and didn't complain once*.  I think I deserve an award for my patience, not a spaghetti hernia.

* I complained hundreds of times daily.

As it turns out, I kicked too hard in the final .2 of my "marathon".  After months of extremely conservative training, followed by a week of forced rest right before race day, I went gangbusters.  I had so much pent up energy that even the doctor commented on how strong of a "pusher" I was.  At 5:23pm on December 15th, the moment Logan was born, I thought I was a freaking bad-ass; I brought him across the finish line in less than 20 minutes.  Now, all I can think of is that I am a freaking dumb-ass.  A spaghetti hernia is when your bowel protrudes through a hole/tear in your abdomen.  The pushing force created this hole.  So, given my condition, it turns out I'm actually now a, uh, tummy-ass.  Literally.

I have been running again for seven weeks, nice and gradual.  From day one, I felt a localized pain above my belly button and assumed it was normal post-preggo stuff.  So, I ran anyway.  And then I kept running.  Then I ran some more.  Then I ran again.  Oh, and then there was this day that I ran.  Did I ever tell you about the time I went for a run? 

I finally went to the doctor after setting the world record in the mile.  Yep.  When the threat of a GI episode arises during a run, you sprint.  It does not matter how far you have to run; you sprint.  You keep sprinting until you reach that beautiful, porcelain god, never looking back, and never looking at your watch (okay, be sure to click your splits though because I'm telling will be FAST).  Anyway, all of this was slightly out of the ordinary for me, and after seeking medical attention, my spaghetti hernia was discovered.  I will be having surgery next week.  Poop.

Oh, and no worries...don't feel like a shithead for not congratulating me on the world record; I really don't give a crap.  I'm pretty mentally gassed from getting the shitty news this morning anyway.  Plus, there are far more turd-bombers in the world causing much worse doo-doo, so need to cause yourself so much strain.

I am still hopeful for running the Philadelphia Marathon on November 23rd.  I get so excited thinking about it that I could shit myself!  Oh, wait...

 Cure for a shitty day

Total side note, but did I ever mention how having a baby makes you super comfortable talking about pooh?!  

I'm really jealous of your Happy Running!  :)