42.35

BOO YEAH! My 10k time was my personal best and I came in 55th out of... wait for it... 12, 000 ladies. Okay enough bragging... TWELVE THOUSAND! Ahem.

Race day was kicked off early am by a frantic telephone call from K asking if I had safety pins (its okay we got some). I headed to meet the girls and was tuned to the moon with excitement and nerves. We got a parking space which was quite a distance from the start line and headed over to the race. It was hot and humid so I was a little worried as I hadn't ran in that sort of heat before. We bagged a place near the front and got ready to RUN!

I knew from the get go it was going to be a hard one because my breathing was all over the place. I've never had this problem but seriously it was horrible. Luckily my legs felt super and carried me through as I cursed the 7km hill. The last 3km were hard as my breathing was still shockingly bad and I just felt pretty unwell but I started so I'll finish...

And finish I did! In 42 minutes 35 seconds. I reckon I could of picked it up at the end but I collapsed once I crossed the finish line. Insanely embarrassing! I was whisked to the first aid tent where they wouldn't let me leave because of a problem with my pulse. I finally felt steady enough to go find the others but with it being a huge event I found myself wandering for a good while. When I did eventually find everyone I weeped in K's arms and got a rollicking about not eating enough pre race. I don't usually eat before a run but had managed a little something that morning. I felt this was suffice but it wasn't and I got everything I deserved. In fact I'm lucky and have learnt my lesson the hard way. I have nobody to blame except myself and to think I could of done that bit better if I had eaten that bit more. Gah!

I have realised from this dreadful experience its anorexic or athlete. I can't be both! I have to choose wether I want to be sick, sore, constantly injured and SLOW or strong, fit, fast and accomplished. I am at war with myself because I cling on to anorexia as I feel like its a relationship that I know is bad for me but can't seem to sever ties. The weight gain terrifies me the most and peoples reactions and comments are the hardest to deal with which I've mentioned before. I feel like my identity is anorexia and without it I am just nothing and what else do I focus on? Its like its a fall back for when things get tough but its not acceptable and it really is soul destroying. I often think I will always have this illness but sometimes it may not be as visible as it has been which makes me feel like a fraud. Does that make sense? Probably not as I can feel myself going off on a tangent and I really don't feel up to explaining it all. Bottom line is I am driving myself crazy and I am having a very distorted body image week/ month/ year. I hope it isn't always this fricken hard and I can be like the wonderful ladies that have completely overcome things :)

Sorry for a pretty incoherent post that I suppose is quite disordered but I have no where else to express myself and I'm fed up of suffering in silence.