Remember when I used to run all the races?

So last night Michael worked until past midnight.  I wanted to get to bed at a decent time (ME ME ME) since I was slated for a ten mile run at "race pace" today, but I have a hard time going to sleep when my poor husband is working because his job is balls and I am one day going to win the lottery and burn it to the ground.  Am I treading on familiar territory here?
Anyways, shit night's sleep for the both of us.  Finally get our run going around 2pm.  I did run a solid 14 miles in April of last year and even contemplated running the BMO Half at one point, but other than that it has been some slow long runs and mostly just bike races for the past summer.  A shit race pace for me (for a paltry half) is 8 minute miles and I could only reign in 8:15 minute miles today which PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF.
I used to be a contender and all that jazz.
How in the fuck did I ever run 1:45 halfs with hangovers and shit?  How did I qualify for Boston seven times?  Holy good Christ I really need to start taking shit seriously again.
I also really need to stop swearing.  I am a smart, well respected, well educated person with a really broad and vast vocabulary but every second sentence out of my mouth these days is "Jesus fuck".
What does that even mean?  Jesus fuck.
Anyways.  I am not good at this - I typically freak the hell out when I have bad half times - but I am going to give myself a "pass" on February's half because it's early in the season, I haven't raced in three years, and it's supposed to be an incredibly hilly course.  Also a friend cajoled me into it so it's all her fault (and secretly if she beats me I will have to kill myself).  I am also signed up for the BMO half and I will focus on that for my reintroduction to running, as I have a lot to prove after I ran it last time (which was dismal but also was, I will point out, two or three weeks after I had run Boston 2013 so...).
In other news, we watched "Inside Out" tonight.  Man.  That was a good movie.  A girlfriend saw it in the theatres and said to bring tissues and I was like "what?" and anyways maybe I cried, maybe I didn't, but I'm pretty sure Michael was crying too so I punched him to make sure he had something legit to cry about because the main two characters in my HQ are Rage and Disgust.
UPDATE: I still don't have a Priv.
ANOTHER UPDATE: I did buy a cowl sweater today and I look like a hipster douchebag.