Health -- not to be taken for granted!

I was beaten by a horrible cold, this week.  Tuesday night I started to feel it.  By Thursday I was wishing I had stayed in bed – rather than infecting my workplace and all of the people I love dearly.  Every night I went to bed hoping I would wake up healed the next morning.  But, nothing I did seemed to improve my health – I simply got worse and worse.   By Friday at 4pm I was moving in a haze, thinking about my bed and the 14 mile run I was planning to do Saturday morning (so that I could enjoy my BFF Lora’s 40^th birthday festivities Saturday evening). 

I went to bed at 7pm on Friday night with a box of tissues at my side and a vile of Nyquil at the ready.  When I dragged myself out of bed at 6am on Saturday morning, I still felt dreadful.  Between the coughing and the nose blowing, NO ONE was sleeping in my house (that included Brunhilda, the dog, and my roommate, Claire).  I hope they have both forgiven me.

By 7am, I had texted Lora to give her the bad news – no 40^th birthday festivities for me.   I was falling into a pretty significant depression and by 11am was sound asleep on the sofa – with a roll of toilet paper at my side (yep, I’d gone through all the tissues and did not feel well enough to drive across the street to Walgreens to get more).  Claire must have moved around the house like a mouse, because I didn’t rise again until about 2pm.  However, when I woke, I felt better – seriously better.  5 days of poor health and here it was 2pm on Saturday and I actually felt better.

I had purchased a Wii several weeks prior, but it just sat there – like a doorstop – all plugged in and ready to roll.  By 3pm, I was knee deep into Season Two of The League on Netflix, thinking the Wii was the greatest purchase of my life.  Claire made me a nice dinner and we watched some crappy “straight to DVD” flick called Bed and Breakfast before retiring to our rooms around 9pm. 

I set my alarm for 5am, hopeful I might feel well enough to push out my 14 miles.  (I was also aware that the weather forecast for the morning was rain, rain and more rain.)  When the alarm went off, I let the dog out – yep, in the rain.    I looked at the forecast online and, low and behold, the weather was supposed to clear for a few hours.  So, I decided to attempt my mileage. 

8 miles of serious hills + 6 miles of relative flatness (save climbing the I10 overpasses) = 14.  I was feeling ok for the majority of the run, but petered out a lot in the last 3 miles.  My body reminded me (1/2 way into mile 12) that I had been death’s door for the prior 5 days – and I moved through the last couple of miles with several small walk breaks.  But, dang it – I made it!  My nose dripped, my chest was not thrilled, my body was tired, but I made it.  Not my best time – but I am not remotely displeased.  I would still pull a 4:40 marathon if I’d kept up my pace.

 

Clearly I am on the mend.  Next week my mom will be in town to help me pull out my last 20 mile run.  I am super excited for her arrival.  Thinking about having my friends over for a little wine soiree on Tuesday the 27^th – so mark your calendars, friends! 

Bring it!