I didn't sign up for a Turkey Trot this year -- no big deal.

In October 2013, I went from looking at running as something that maniacs do for shits and giggles to something that I love and hate equally.  I don't have a runner's background like some of my counterparts.  In fact, I was the girl who grew up not knowing how to ride a bike, swim, never received formal lessons on double dutch (even though in seventh grade, a few girls taught me on the fly and I could only jump for speed) and don't even ask about makeup or hair.  I watched boxing with my father with my dad when the other girls didn't think it was cool.  Football was my jam for a bit until I realized a lot of people were fanatics and would end friendships over sports.  And in ways, I revisit that feeling with running these days, pushing me to be an extroverted loner more than I care to admit.  2013 - 2018 me was psyched for a Turkey Trot Run.  I would recruit every friend and drag my son and husband to the race; this year my mother and sister asked me to cook and it was the most normal thing I did all year. 

I haven't left my home since the NYRR 60K.  Yesterday, I managed to get dressed for the gym, walked to my front door and turned back around.  I curled up with a bowl of cereal, watched a video and felt like a failure.  After two anxiety attacks between 6PM and 6AM​, I practiced a failed attempt of corpse pose without yoga until 10AM -- thank you freelancing.  Every time I go through an episode, I remind myself to question what triggered the anxiety.  This time I allowed a bunch of insecure fuckers to make me question if I have what it takes to be an athlete.  Typically I don't dwell on those things but I do acknowledge when the noise grows.  I can usually link it to a source; this incident stemmed from my last two posts since returning back to this space.  A few minutes ago, I made myself a glass of shut the fuck up to go with my coffee and thought out loud: What exactly is an athlete.  If you can tolerate some non politically correct commentary, grab a bottle of Tequila and take a shot with me.
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Any person who reads enough ramblings from me will notice that I love running no more than 4 times a week.  On the fifth day, I want to murder everything moving.  Despite it all, I find myself signing up for races at 2AM like I'm on QVC because that's how I avoid midnight snacks these days.  I'm almost certain this is how I signed up for the New York Road Runners' Knickerbocker 60K.  Somehow I managed to develop amnesia for the third time and thought running 37.2 miles two weeks after the New York City Marathon was a GREAT idea.  If I could complete my first 100K last year six days before the NYC Marathon and do this race two weeks after, what could possibly go wrong this year?  Every. Single. Thing.  
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If it feels like it's been a long time since I've wrote anything consistent here, that would be painfully accurate.  There's not one particular reason that I can give you but I can throw out a few:
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1. My 2019 schedule was built for an endurance nutter like me;
2. I underestimated how busy I'd be as a full time sponsored athlete;
3. Shitty comments from random fuckers I don't know on the internet made me reevaluate posting regular updates on here -- or anywhere.

Through one on one interactions with people in the running community and with loved ones reminded me about the reasons why I constructed this crazy website Running Fat Chef and it damn sure wasn't for internet fame.  I truly love blurbing about the highs, lows, unstable moments and adventure that comes with fitness, particularly running.  By having a honest heart to heart with myself, I buried myself under a blanket, wrote down a list with my insecurities, rolled it into a shape of a blunt and decided to say "fuck all of that shit-- I'm writing again."  

With that said, let's talk about my 2019 highs and lows before the year is out -- and let's start with my DNFs.
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