I don’t work again until March 8th.  I am going to be in Chicago surrounded by the awesome gentlemen of the /|/() /|/∆+|()/|/ Gallery in Wicker Park and enjoy an evening with my sweet, beautiful, friend Ashley.   Then I am off to Mexico.  I am going to get to see El Oso ever so briefly in Mexico City.  I am going to compete in the most hardcore triathlon I’ve ever been in, in a city I’ve never been to.  I am going to party on the beach with McPocho.  I am going to see my German friend Florian who is waiting for me in Taxco.    I am going to the wedding of two close friends, who I’ve shared a friendship with since childhood.  I am going to dance with many friends.  I have nothing but a month of pleasure in front of me.  So, why the hell is it that last night I had my first panic attack in years and couldn’t sleep?
UPDATE
I figured it out, partially anyway.  I am PMSing.  I do this every month.  I get all emo, wonder why I am emo and then realize “Oh yeah, I’m about to menstruate”.  I’ll probably start on the plane on Thursday, which is better than starting during the race.  In the picture below, I had my menses, diarrhea, nausea, and just a tiny vomit which I think was more mental than anything—pretty much any orifice that could excrete fluid was.  Here is hoping that I am not like that this time around.

Elenamary and Rocky at the finishline