Cancer & kiddos and cars...oh my.

I've never been good at 'when life gets in the way' kinda stuff, so when I'm training for a race and life gets in the way, I'll admit my reactions are not always the way to go.  This past week? Oh my. 

It started off with my husband having a potential cancer scare.  Not feeling so great, and some wonky test results had us wandering around with that horrible unknown question.  While a pre-occupied run might have been a good idea, the thought of facing cancer, and potentially losing yet another loved one to cancer scared me stiff.  Literally. I told myself I was not going to stress until I had something to stress about.  yeah.  right.

Monday night I came home to car trouble.  Missed my Tuesday speed workout so I could pick up the rental car.  Oh well.  What are you gonna do? Three days, a rental car and $1500 later, the car is fixed and all is well, but once again life just got in the way.

Then my mom took a stumble and ended up in the Emergency Room on Thursday.  It was minor, she's fine and all is well, but the sheer momentary panic and waiting in the ER was enough to make me go batty-again.  Another workout missed, but again, what are you gonna do?

And of course, let's add to that, kiddos birthday party planning for Saturday.  Her first sleepover and her nerves and adrenaline were enough to send us all batty.  The planning and doing for the party went well, but trying to do it all, was never going to happen.  Or so we thought. 

The cake topper here is the 11 miles I was facing on Saturday.  Never having done that, I was in a sheer panic most of the week.  Knowing that I had so much going on, my nerves were shot, my sleep was jacked, I was in a state of mind that felt like drowning. 
Not to mention about 2 hours after my 11 miler, I'd be expecting about 25 family and friends to show up for the day party.  Good God.  What have I done.

 With roughly 7 hours of sleep between Friday and Saturday, by the grace of God,  I survived it all.
By the time Sunday came around, my exhausted mind started to wonder if I could consider this training.  It was pushing my body past anything normal, I was managing to figure out how to do it, and.... I didn't even cry! Don't I get points for that or something? 

I'm not proud to admit I did not even try to make up for any lost workouts. 
I'm not proud to admit I reacted with the stress by eating like a fraternity. 
I'm not proud to admit I thought of quitting training all together, because it's too hard. 
I'm not proud to admit I cursed myself for getting myself into this nonsense of running a half. 
yet...I'm proud to admit that I did it. 
I'm proud to admit that I didn't give in to my thoughts and quit.
I'm proud to admit that I can admit it all...the good, the bad, the ugly. 
I'm proud to admit that I didn't even cry.