A New Leaf

So I’m guessing my last post or two must’ve relayed a lot more of my negativity and lack of confidence than I realized because I’ve had three people reach out to me asking how I’m doing, if everything is okay, etc. I must admit, looking back I have not been in a good place for most of the last few months – at least. I was questioning both my ability, and my want to do Ironman Louisville.

As I stated in a prior post, because of these feelings and the lack of their improvement regardless of what I did, I sought outside help which came in the form of a massage therapist (Kim) who also performs Reiki (Google it). The details of our 2 ½ hour appointment, along with the personal nature of things that came out are too much for this blog, but suffice it to say I left there feeling a huge weight lifted off of me, and a much more optimistic outlook regarding multiple areas of my life.

Since this process my energy and motivation to train has improved drastically. I found myself out on the bike for an hour yesterday, followed by an hour run – neither of which brought on pessimism or doubt. I was even looking forward to these two workouts and began a new mantra getting up the hills on the bike: “Hurts less than a DNF.” And this is true. No matter how much discomfort and fatigue I feel while training (or during the IM), the physical aspect of what my body is put through could not be nearly as painful as a DNF (of course, there are circumstances in which a DNF is the only option, but in my case a DNF due to lack of training and confidence has been my biggest concern.)

It’s funny but, it’s almost as if my mindset has done a complete 180, and that I’ve finally woken up to the fact that this can be a fun process, and that the outcome of gaining a personal achievement is what it’s really all about for me. I’ve had to do some soul searching to come to this conclusion as I haven’t been 100% certain as to why I actually wanted to complete an Ironman. With the help of a triathlon friend who reached out to me, and whom I met with earlier this week, I began to ask myself some tough questions and continued to toy with the idea of pulling out all together. The following day, however, I felt much better about things and decided to move forward – even going so far as to signing up for 2 Century rides and a 2.4 mile swim as a part of my training plan.

This change in mood has made the training feel a lot less “heavy,” too - if that makes sense. My rides this week have seemed to go more smoothly, and my runs felt great as well. I don’t find myself questioning my abilities, cursing the hills, or dreading putting on my cycling gear, running shoes or swim cap. Oddly enough, I’ve found that I have been exhibiting a lot less anger while driving as well. I’ve been much more forgiving and have noticed that the “F bomb,” has decreased in my vocabulary by 87.6% (roughly). All around, I feel much less negative and pessimistic about things – something I haven’t felt in a long time.

Again, the session I had with Kim gave me some insight as to why I’ve been thinking and feeling the way I have for the past few years, even though I tried to hide it behind this mask of happiness and words of, “I’m okay.” Well, I wasn’t okay. I don’t think I’ve been okay for a while. But right here, right now, I can honestly say that I’m in a much better place than I was – and that feels amazing.

Living and Learning

The bad news is today’s ride did not go as planned. The good news is I think I know why and this is all just a part of my learning process.

I woke up this morning feeling good about the upcoming 78-miler. I had done one 76-mile ride previously, and was ready to test out my new saddle and aero bars on the double-loop of the IMLOU course. I ate my oatmeal, packed plenty of nutrition, and off I went to meet a bunch of folks at the corner of 42 and 1694.

Well, for whatever reason I felt in a bit of a funk from the beginning. 1694 seemed to be more of a bear for me than I remember, and 393 was just, well….torturous. I had counted the hills on this 5 mile stretch previously and came to the conclusion that there were 7. Well, either my math was off or I was delusional because somehow there seemed to be an extra hill thrown in there somewhere. It’s quite possible that I really was delusional at this point.

Hooking a left onto our next road, for which I still don’t know the name, it was nice to get a little bit of a break from the hills as there are none too steep or too close together. Another left and we’re on to Ballard School Road. At this point there were just three of us bringing up the back of the pack as all the speed-meisters went off and left us early on. That was fine by me as my only concern was getting through the ride. At 25 miles in I remember thinking to myself, “Alright, we’re a third of the way finished.” I was still feeling decent physically at this point, although that was about to change.

I had been taking in Infinit throughout the course, but the bottle containing my Napalm had malfunctioned so I wasn’t able to take in any other type of nutrition. I told Jon B. at one point that I would need to stop at the store in Sligo, which he was more than happy to oblige. By the time we got to the store, however, I had already begun having thoughts of finishing out the day’s ride after just one loop. I had completed my first run since Muncie the day before, a hot 6-miler, and afterwards completed another 60 minutes worth of swimming. At some point it dawned on me that although I had replenished my fluids on the run, I hadn’t drank much afterwards or throughout the evening. Not only this, but since this was my first run in nearly two weeks, my quads were hella-sore and every hill felt like a mountain.

After taking in a few Clif Bloks at our stop, as well as a half-can of Coke, I had already decided that the chances of me calling it a day were more than decent. I told a few of my cycle-mates this so they would know my plans and not be looking for me on the course. Off we went up 42 once again for the remaining 13 miles (of my ride at least).

I have to admit that once or twice I did try to renegotiate with myself about the second loop. While on flat ground I would be speeding along (and by speeding, I mean, going 15-16mph) and thinking to myself, “That’s right, I’m a bad ass, I’m doing IRONMAN!” This didn’t last long though because once I reached a hill that thought turned to, “F*ck! I’m doing IRONMAN?! I’m going to die.” After breaking away from Jon (who was, in fact, doing the second loop), I knew I had just three more miles left to go. Three miles that seemed like an eternity. My quads were aching, my mind was starting to mess with me, and I just wanted to be done already!

Luckily, a sign up ahead told me that 1694 was near and I praised the 8 pound, 7 oz. baby Jesus (even though I’m not the least bit religious). Pulling into the parking lot I noted that I completed just at 47 miles in 3:12 with a 14.7 mph average. This average is what baffled me since I had been struggling so hard, or at least felt like I was. My last go-round on this course had me ending with a 14.8 average, so seeing that I went just .1mph slower this time was actually quite nice. Of course, I highly doubt that would have been my average had I completed that second loop. In fact, after I had a moment to collect myself and started pulling away in the car, my vision started to get a little wonky. Not blurry, necessarily, but it felt like I had a hard time adjusting my focus. This is more evidence that stopping after that first loop was the best thing. I now think that I must’ve been working towards dehydration, if I wasn’t already there.

So, lessons learned for today: I definitely need to HYDRATE, HYDRATE, HYDRATE the days leading up to these long rides. Especially in this heat. Even though we started plenty early, that Kentucky sun is very unforgiving once it comes out and starts shining down. Also, no more longish runs the day before a long ride. I don’t know what I was thinking doing my first 6-miler in 2 weeks 14 hour prior to a planned 78-mile bike ride. But…never again. As they say, you live and you learn, and this entire process has definitely been a learning experience for me.

As a side note, because I have been having issues lately with motivation, negativity, doubt, etc. I have decided to try a new type of therapy called cranial sacral therapy which is advertised as, “A gentle, hands-on approach that releases tensions deeply in the body to relieve pain and dysfunction and improve whole-body health and performance.” This includes alleviating stress and negative energy as well. The massages that I get are great, but I need something to help with the psychological part of my system as well. My first appointment is two days from now with a lady that comes highly recommended, so we’ll see. At this point I feel I need a little more umph to help continue propelling me forward. Once again, my perception during today’s ride was that it is “so easy,” for everyone else and they’re all, “having such a great time, laughing, cutting up,” while I’m on the struggle bus. I need to get out of my head and turn these thoughts around.

Questioning

Been having a bit of a rough time since my Muncie Half Ironman a week ago, and I can’t exactly pin point what it is. I’ve still been getting most of my workouts in, although motivation continues to be a bit of an issue. I just completed my longest solo ride today – a 38-miler in 2:40, which would have been the full 3 hours that I had anticipated, had it not been for the 105 degree heat index. I was supposed to have started a fifty miler at 7:00 a.m. this morning, but a late-night, much-needed dinner with friends meant a sleep in on this Saturday morning for me, and so I didn’t even get started until 12:00 noon. Lesson learned.

On a more positive note, I completed my longest swim ever yesterday with 3000 yards (1.86 miles). This took approximately 1:25, which is considered slow by most standards, but since I always swim slower in a pool and have consistently swam 2:20 min./ 100m in open water, I’m not concerned. Didn’t feel much fatigue, just some boredom mostly, but breaking it up by 6x500m helped.

So…what is it that I’m questioning you ask? This whole process to be quite honest. Mostly, WHY is it that I’m doing this? Why am I putting in all of this time doing the training, giving up what little social life I do have, ending the day with exhausted muscles, crispy skin, and aching body parts that I didn’t even know where possible to hurt? For the second time during this training process I’m considering throwing in the towel.

I was talking with my girlfriends over dinner last night, one of which is a current triathlete, the other two triathletes in training about to do their first sprint, and I mentioned that I’m having a hard time motivating myself at times to push and get some of the workouts in. This is nothing new if you’ve read past posts of mine, but for some reason Muncie put a lot of things into perspective for me. It’s almost like my love/hate relationship with marathons. Although I’ve completed five, I would say I don’t necessarily enjoy them. And while half-marathons are no walk in the park, I at least feel like I’m having a somewhat decent time and know that it’s going to be over shortly after I climb aboard the struggle bus – if the bus ever even arrives. I’m getting sort of the same feeling about the HIM vs. the Full IM. Muncie was fun up until I had knee issues half-way through the run. I was even smiling on the bike and thinking, “Man, this is the first time in a long time I’ve actually had fun during a race.” At twice the distance, I’m not sure I’m going to be saying the same thing about IMLOU.

Several times this past week I’ve found myself questioning whether or not I am going to continue the training and actually toe the line in October. Yet, several times this past week I found myself either in the pool, on the bike, or lacing up the running shoes. A big part of the discussion last night centered around my fear of failure. I have such a big fear that I’m not going to be able to pull it off. I told the girls that, physically, I know that I can do it – I just don’t know that I can do it in the time allotted. Mentally…. well, I’m actually a whole lot more concerned about the mental aspect of things than the physical to be quite honest.

I’ve never really FAILED at anything that mattered in my life. Even my former marriage doesn’t feel like a failure, as I’m able to look back at it as two young kids in love who tied the knot way too young and figured it out a little too late. I was scared to go out on my own in the private practice because I wasn’t sure I could make it financially yet, here I am 3+ years later doing very well for myself and only regretting that I didn’t do it sooner. So why such questioning and lack of confidence this time around? I did my first sprint in 2009, first Olympic in 2010 and now my first HIM in 2015. Isn’t the natural progression of things to do an Ironman? If I don’t do it in three months, when I’ve already paid my dues, put in the work, and am probably in the best shape of my life, when AM I going to do it? If I put it off until next year I’ll just have to start from square one again. Not to mention the registration fees – sheesh!

So, I guess I found my answer. I will do it because I can. I will do it because that feeling I had crossing the finish line in Muncie is probably only a fraction of what I will feel in October. I will do it because a DNF is not the worst thing in the world that could ever happen to me. I will do it because I know that, come race day, I won’t even be able to go downtown, log onto Facebook, or check race updates for those who are racing that day if I pull out now – it would just be too painful. I will do it because, just like a few months ago, I know this feeling will pass again and I will somehow muster up the motivation and confidence to keep on training to prepare myself for that infamous day: October 11th.

Muncie 70.3

Anxious but confident. That’s what I told people who asked how I was feeling about my first Half Ironman at Muncie yesterday. I knew I had put in the training to pull it off, but having never put all of those distances together in one day had me a little overwhelmed.

I got into Muncie at about 1:30 Friday afternoon after driving in the rain from Louisville. After a quick check into the hotel, I asked my phone navigator to take me to the Prairie Creek Reservoir so that I could register for the race and check in my bike. Note to the City of Muncie: Please update your Google maps so that your system doesn’t take people to some back country road and inform the driver that they have “Arrived at your destination,” only to be met with a view full of woods. Not cool.

After getting all checked in I drove back to the hotel to get a little relaxation time in before meeting some of my Landshark friends for dinner at 6:00. While going through my things I realized that I was missing my packet – which contained both my swim cap and Bib. Panic sets in. I quickly discover, however, that I must have left it at bike check-in where some volunteers had helped me place my stickers on my bike. Luckily, Reggie G. was manning the Rudy Project tent at the expo and I was able to have him get it for me who, in turn gave it to Sonja who, in turn brought it to me at dinner that evening. Disaster avoided.

After swapping some stories and getting my grub on during dinner that evening, I made my way back to the hotel to try and get some sleep before the early morning. I was in bed with the lights out by 9:15, and considering how big of a deal this race was for me I actually got some pretty decent sleep with the exception of waking up a time or two – the last of which came at 3:15 a.m. Since the alarm was set for 4:15 and I was already so nervous about the race, I just lay in bed until it was time to get up.

A quick change into my tri suit, a grab of my gear and the morning’s oatmeal and I was headed out the door at 4:50 a.m. As I pulled up close to the Reservoir I could see a long line of headlights coming from all directions. I guess a lot of us had the same idea to get to the start early to set up and prepare for the race. Good thing too, as they were already directing traffic to park in an area about 1/2 mile from the transition area by the time I arrived.

I met up with Allison B. on the walk over and we talked about how nervous we were, her anxiety dreams, whether or not we were wearing a wetsuit, and a slew of other topics. Before long we found ourselves in transition setting up our area. I was #1271. After setting everything up I looked down to see what time it was: 6:00 a.m. I still had an hour and thirty-two minutes before my swim wave would be going off. A LOOOONG hour and thirty-two minutes. Plenty of time to get anxious – or, at least, more anxious than what I already was. I killed time by taking another potty break, walking around a bit, then meeting up with some folks near the swim start to shoot the breeze. At some point we were told that the start had been delayed by 15 minutes due to traffic. “Great,” I thought, “even more time to get the nerves going.” I was already waiting around in my wetsuit and my legs were going a mile-a-minute as I sat near the picnic tables.

Before long me and a few other “pink capped,” ladies decided to make our way down to the swim start as our wave would be going off in about 15 minutes. You would have thought I was making my way to the torture chamber by my reaction. This is when the panic really set in and I began to tear up. I prayed no one would ask me if I was okay, hence releasing the water works that would soon follow. Nonetheless, they called my wave down to the shoreline and I stood thigh-deep in water preparing to go off. Despite having the open-water swim at Freeman Lake a few months ago (1.3 miles), I still had reservations about whether or not I could do this.

As the gun went off and I made my way into the warmer-than-expected water, it took me longer than usual to get into a good groove. I was definitely one of the back of the pack swimmers, something I planned on since I’m not strong or fast in this area, yet I still seemed to be getting passed by pink swim caps for quite a ways. At one point I got a little panicked and I thought for a second, “I can’t do this. I’m going to have to bail out.” Luckily that second passed and I told myself that there was no way I was going to DNF within the first 300 meters of the swim. So, I swam on and before too long I was being passed by all sorts of colored swim caps, indicating that the next wave had gone off. Along with the next, and the next. This meant more and more swimmers knocking into me, darn-near running over me, and coming really close to kicking me in various areas of my body. I tried to stay as far away from others as I could without veering off course, all the while being aware of the location of the buoys. Luckily these other swimmers seemed to come in waves, and I would only have to cope with them for a bit before getting some calm waters to myself. This allowed me to get into a bit of a groove, and I decided to breathe to my left every second stroke rather than third – something that I found helped keep the panic down.

The water was a little choppy due to so many swimmers, and I was super aware of this as I turned my head to breathe in – not wanting a repeat of my choking experience from Freeman Lake. Somehow I managed to get past the first turn, and then the second before heading back to shore. Unfortunately the sun was shining from this direction so it was hard to navigate. Mostly I just paid attention to the swim caps I saw ahead of me. At one point I recall wondering how long I had been in the water and had to resist the urge to check my watch. “What difference does it make?” I argued with myself. It’s not like anything I was going to do at this point was going to change it. I was in the home stretch, in a groove, and making my way to shore. I must say, however, that it was a little disconcerting to see another pink swim cap next to me doing a simpler version of the breast stroke (head out of water, swim goggles on forehead) going along faster than me. "You’re not racing anyone except yourself, Connie."

Soon I was out of the water and checking the Garmin: 53 minutes. I was being extra-cautious when I set my goal as sub one-hour, so 53 minutes was awesome in my book. I sat on the ground to get my wetsuit stripped off, walked quickly to transition, donned my bike gear and out the gate I went. I was still feeling confident at this point, and was even more so when I hopped on the bike and made my way down the road. I had even gotten a, “Go Connie,” from Reggie on the sidelines before I took off.

A 56 mile bike ride tends to be a bit of a blur since there’s really nothing to do but ride, be aware of other cyclists, and think. Another triathlete posted that riding that long without talking to someone takes some getting used to. I would have to agree. I made my way to the turnaround point and remember thinking, “Flat? This isn’t exactly a flat ride. Flat compared to Louisville, yes. Rolling hills, no. But not flat.” I had to remember to reel in my negativity and just enjoy the day. As I made my way past that first turn-around point I quickly realized that those small inclines on the way out made for a much faster bike on the way back in, and was happy to see my speed had gone up significantly. Okay, I can handle this. I had already seen many Landsharks along the course, and had been given numerous accolades and encouragements throughout.

Rounding that second turn-around in preparation for the second loop I noticed I was on time to do a sub 3:30 bike segment – just what I planned for! Once again, I made my way back out with a little bit more to think about this time: chaffing. Oh yes, my old friend was back. Only this time I was able to quickly determine that the culprit had to be my tri shorts as this wasn’t a problem with my bib shorts on my prior rides these past few weeks. Luckily on one of my last rides Jennifer S. had given me some sample packets of anti-chaffing lotion to put in my bag, so I was able to ripe one open and commence to “spreading the love,” so to speak at the last turn-around point.

I made my way back towards the finish, breaking the mileage up little by little this time. Just past the last turn-around is the 40-mile marker. At the pace I was going, this meant I would be off the bike in about an hour or so. My back and shoulders had started to ache a little, and my nether regions were starting to get a bit sore, so that last hour couldn’t come quickly enough. As I stated prior though, this portion had a little bit of a descent to it, which made things a little easier – both mentally and physically.

Coming up on the 50-mile marker I started counting it down. You know that feeling you get when you just want something to BE DONE ALREADY?! Yeah, that’s where I was. Now, don’t get me wrong – I was having a good time and my pace was excellent, but 3+ hours on a bike can really get to a girl after a while and I welcomed the next leg of the race with open arms. And when I say open arms, I mean I literally had to have my arms open when I hopped off the bike because somewhere along the way more chafing had occurred. This time on the underside of my arms and, I gotta tell ya, it was putting a hurt on this ol’ body.

As I wheeled the bike into transition (3:24) I quickly found my Body Glide and started smearing away at my poor triceps. Unfortunately, the damage had been done so this effort was the equivalent of putting some Neosporin on an amputated limb. Nonetheless, I switched into my running gear and took off with the Body Glide tucked neatly into my fizz tank’s back pocket in case I needed to reapply somewhere down the road. For the first mile I was walking like a body builder who had done too many reps at the gym – you know, those beefcake guys whose arms are so big that they can’t hold them down to their sides? Coupled with my sweaty body and grimaced face I’m positive I was owning that half-marathon in terms of physical appearance.

I had good intentions of doing my 3:1 intervals during the run portion, but my body quickly put the smack down on that idea. I thought I had only consumed water, Infinit and some Clif Bloks at this point, but apparently someone had snuck in some professional-grade sand because my body felt weak and heavy . The mid-day sun beating down didn’t help either, although luckily it wasn’t unbearably hot or even humid. I tried doing a 1:1 interval instead, but that didn’t seem to take either. I tried not to let the fact that I had 12 more miles (12 MILES!!) to go get to me, so I decided to run what I could but not push myself either. The next five miles consisted mostly of walking, but I was keeping a pretty good pace of about sub 15 minute miles, so I was happy with my progress. Unfortunately 5.8 miles into the run I got this sharp pain in the bend of my right knee that perked me up a bit. And when I say perked me up, I mean deflated my motivation to the point of tears. Yes…. We have arrived at the portion of the story known as Connie’s Meltdown.

With half the run still left to go I rounded the turn-around to cheers and encouragement from volunteers who saw my tears and gave me props to muddle on. I trudge along not trying to hide the fact that I was having a tough time, and many people passed me by asking if I was okay. Nodding my head yes at most, there was one point when I had to be honest with myself and say, “No, I’m not okay.” My knee kept doing its thing, yet there was no rhyme or reason as to when this pain would occur. It didn’t seem to be anything I was, or wasn’t doing, that made it feel better or worse. At 6.5 miles in I stopped once again to bend over and massage the area when the person who will from this point be known as my Guardian Angel walked up next to me.

My Guardian Angel came in the form of a 55+ year old, white haired woman with a IM tattoo on her left bicep. A few moments after I met this person I found myself on the ground, succumbing to the fact that I couldn’t go on and was going to have to DNF. The thought of a DNF was more painful than anything my knee was feeling at the time, and my sobs turned into full-blown wails. She asked if I would like for her to flag down a medic at the next aid station to pick me up and take me to the finish. I told her I would. Over the course of the next mile this person took my arm, helped me along, and began a conversation that took my mind off the pain. She had completed four half IM’s and one full. I told her this was my first HIM and that I had a lot of people expecting me to finish and rooting for me at home. She told me that if I didn’t want to DNF she understood, but that she wouldn’t want to see me hurt myself and not be able to complete IMLOU.

Somehow during our walk my knee actually started to feel better, and I told her that I didn’t want her to feel obligated to walk with me and that I thought I could complete the last 5 miles. We did the math and figured out that I had 2 hours to walk the remaining 5 miles. Even in my state, I felt that I could do it. She gave me a high-five, told me that she hoped to see me at the finish line, but understood if she didn’t and that she’d be looking for me in Louisville.

The next five miles I focused solely on getting to the next landmark. The next minute. The next mile. My feet were beginning to hurt from doing so much walking and my entire body ached. In between aid stations I was parched for something to drink, but taking in water and Gatorade only seemed to make me feel bloated. I began to have thoughts of pulling out of IMLOU. I began to think about selling the two IM shirts I had just bought the day before and how I would advertise them as, “Size Large but fits like a Medium.” I began to think about my Destin vacation planned for October 13th and how I would have extra money now that I would be canceling my two nights at the Galt House. I began to wonder if I would get my knee looked at and they would tell me that everything is fine, that I didn’t HAVE to pull out of IMLOU, and how disappointed I would be in that news. It’s amazing the things that go through your mind when you’ve got nothing but 4 miles of thinking to do.

With only a mile left I began to wonder if I would make the new 3:30 time limit I had given myself. 3 hours was my original goal, but that had quickly dissipated once the half-marathon started. Words of encouragement continued to ring out by volunteers and passers-by even as the aid stations began to buckle down in anticipation of ending their day. I made my way up that one last hill and was told all I had remaining was a left hand turn and up the gravel road to the finish. Since I was unfamiliar with the course I didn’t realize that the left hand turn would take me straight into the finishers chute, and I couldn’t have been more happy to see the finishing line at that point. I looked ahead to my right and saw the Landsharks tent, as well as some Landsharks themselves making their way to the side of the chute to cheer me on to the end. Clapping, yelling, high-fives and “good job’s,” were heard from every direction. Straight ahead I saw the actual finish line and clock, and even further beyond that I saw her…. My Guardian Angel once again. She had waited at the finish after her own race was over to see if I would make it. As I crossed the line, I put the medal over my head, took a water that was handed to me, and gave this woman the biggest hug I could muster. I broke out in tears and sobbed across her shoulder, “Thank you so much!”

I am not a religious person, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason. This thought process has helped me cope with numerous things in my life, and I’ve found comfort in this statement many times when things didn’t go the way I expected. In regards to my meltdown, I believe there is a reason that this particular person was walking by at that particular time. I believe there was a reason that a medic wasn’t available right then and there. Had there been, I would have gotten into their truck and had them carry me away – with a DNF forever etched into my heart.

This race was, by far, the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Despite my training, this issue with my knee just goes to show that we can’t always predict what’s going to happen on race day. Up until that point I was having a good race. I was still feeling confident having reached my goals on the swim and on the bike, and was prepared to walk the half-marathon if I had to, as long as I finished.

I couldn’t imagine completing this race without the encouragement and support of all of the Landsharks I saw out on the course. No matter if I knew their names or not, every single one of them gave me either a high-five, a “good job,” or some other show of support. For that I am ever thankful.

Closing thoughts:

I no longer have a secret hope that there is something wrong with my knee. In fact, I’m really hoping that it’s a minor issue and I can get back to training in order to complete IMLOU.

This was the first time I ran in my fizz tank. Those things give no boob support whatsoever. I will be doubling up on a sports bra next time.

No more tri shorts on rides more than 25 miles. This chaffing is ridiculous!

Despite my new saddle and aero bars, I’m still having issues with booty soreness and neck/shoulder tightness. This is so frustrating!!!!

The winning quote of the day goes to Reggie.
Reggie: “Is this the hardest thing you’ve ever done?”
Me: Nodding yes through my snotty nose and tears
Reggie: “No it’s not! Dating is the hardest thing you’ve ever done!! Let’s be honest. “
Thanks for putting it into perspective, Reggie!