I am one of the luckiest people on Earth. Nope, I didn’t win the lottery or find a bag of gold buried under a floor board in my house. I am lucky because I am currently sick as a dog.
Yeah, you don’t get it. Hold on, though, you will. In last week’s blog I complained about a bad cold that I had. Well, that cold has blossomed into full on bronchitis. For the last two days I have been laying around doing nothing but feeling like 10 pounds of – poop – in a 5 pound bag. Yesterday was supposed to be my last long run before the NY Marathon next Sunday, 8 miles. I didn’t even put on running clothes. Today I’m not coughing as much, but I have so little energy that after I finish this blog I’m going to need a 2 hour nap.
OK, so where am I lucky? Well, I said it already. I’m sick this week, and the marathon is next week. My doctor gave me 10 days of antibiotics that are taken in 5 (that by the way have made me constantly nauseous), so they will beat up all the bad germs in plenty of time for me to toe the line next Sunday. No, I didn’t do my last long run, but I got in all the rest of my training, and I did it without any injury more severe that a corn and a few blisters. I actually made it through a training season without use of durable medical equipment!
|NY Marathon, 2013|
No, this timing isn’t great, but it’s a whole lot better than if I got sick next week. And while I’ve been lying around in my nauseated stupor, I’ve thought about that. What if I had gotten diagnosed with bronchitis next Friday – 2 days before the marathon – instead of this past Friday – 9 days before the marathon? Would I have tried (and probably failed) to run it, or would I have given up on 5 months of training because my ears are too stuffed to hear anything and I feel like I’m coughing up a lung? Well, fortunately I don’t have to answer that which is good, because I really don’t know what the answer would have been.
My amazing husband Wil has stepped up to the plate this weekend and done everything for the house and kids so I can lie on the couch like a dead fish. I’ve eaten enough chicken soup to make my grandmother proud. When I went to my doctor, she told me to get plenty of rest for the next week, which I interpreted as “whatever you do, Ali, do NOT clean your house” so I’m resting in a living room that needs to be vacuumed, but at least I’m resting.
I probably won’t blog next week, because next Sunday afternoon I again plan on lying on the couch like a dead fish, but that time with a finisher’s medal around my neck. For now I’m going to take that two hour nap, and if I find any energy I might look for gold buried under one of the floor boards in my house.