Turns out the doctor now says I DON'T need the surgery. Strange...a complete 180 from what he told me on the phone in March, but...I was just happy to hear it, and forget about it. Wrists are holding their own, but I guess the good thing about the surgery scare is it made me realize that I'd better do all I can to protect them while lifting. I now wear wrist supports religiously while lifting, and they really do help.

Weird thing about being a girl...why the hell do we spend so much time worrying about how we look? I can feel fat and ugly one day, then wear my "pick me up" clothes to the gym, watch myself lifting, and feel awesome about my body. It can change in an instant (either way unfortunately) and I KNOW that, yet I still get so damn mad and frustrated on those fat days. Even though it's all in my mind.

Was supposed to run the Philadelphia marathon 11/18. Did a 20k and 2 halfs in September (1:52:47 in the Philly Distance Run, my new half time to beat!). Ended up with mild sciatica, dropped to the half, and my new goal is to beat 1:52. Hopefully to go under 1:50. We'll see.

Also planning for kids...my first niece was born last month. I'm 32. Basically, it's just time. The "2 years!" mantra I had is disappearing into less than 1. But I'm coming around psychologically. I know my biggest battle will be with body image. And not having time for Bea, other friends. I dread the inevitable social isolation, frustration, etc. And yet...I know it'll be worth it. I hope.