Running Sick

Last weekend, exactly one week before my first ever 10k, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with a stomach bug.  By midmorning I was achy, weak, shaking with the chills, and unable to eat anything.  I took it easy, drank water and Gatorade, and nibbled as much of a granola bar as I dared.  And I slept.  And rested.  And slept some more.  Oh- and I was SO THANKFUL that I have such amazing kids.  After lunch my daughter (who's 6) said, "Mommy, are we going to take naps now?  I want to take a nap."  I eyed her warily and said, "you WANT to take a nap??"  "Yes," she replied. "I know YOU want to take a nap and you'll need it very quiet, so I want to take a nap so you can sleep."  Um, WHAT?!  How awesome is she?!  So nap we did.  By the next day I was feeling okay, no symptoms but I was still very weak and a little nauseous.  Monday morning I went back to the gym.

I kept it easy, skipping my fitball class and doing a quick 3 mile walk.  It was pretty dang boring.  Even though I was tired and weak, going that slow was a mental challenge after running for so long.

Knowing I only had a few days until my big race, Tuesday I ran 4.75 miles.  And I.  Dragged.  Ass.  It was so exhausting and boring and all I wanted to do was give up.  But I just couldn't!!  I was so excited to run this race, so proud of myself for signing up by myself, and frankly I had paid $25 and I wasn't going to throw that money away.

Wednesday I met with my personal trainer, who I've decided to keep seeing for the time being (I'll get to that some other time).  We did a kettlebell workout out and then I got back on the treadmill and did a tortuous 2 miles.  Still weak.  Still exhausted.  Soooo nervous.

Thursday my gym buddy's husband joined us at the gym and had us do some Crossfit-type stuff.  It was a really nice break from the usual, but I still had to get on that freaking treadmill and get some miles in and by this point, knowing I was going to take Friday off to give my legs a rest, I was feeling a little scared.

And then came Friday.  I woke up that morning with a headache, runny nose and sore throat.  I was torn between "whatamigoingtodoomgthiscan'tbehappeningwhywhywhywhywhy?!?!" and a bleak feeling of knowing I should just give up.  Part of me wanted to slap myself and say "suck it up!" and the other part of me was planning on drowning my sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry's.  Friday sucked.

But then Saturday morning I woke up and I felt okay!  I mean, I still had a runny nose and my throat was a little raspy, but I absolutely could NOT justify not running.  I could do this.  I got dressed and filled my fuel belts (yes, BELTS.  Two.  I like to be prepared.  One had 4 water bottles, one had my cell phone, hair ties and gels.  I felt like an idiot, but I tend to get REALLY thirsty on runs and better safe than sorry!).  Before I knew it I was standing in a crowd of people, all by myself, scared and freezing cold and nervous but still really, really excited.  The gun went off and we all... walked about a block before there was enough room to run.  Okay, no problem. 

I quickly realized that breathing was going to be a major issue.  I could barely breathe anyway since my airways were already swollen, but the cold air seemed to make it downright painful.  I walked a few times that first mile, just trying to calm my heart and catch my breath and I still managed an 11 minute mile (which for me is pretty good).  While I was faster than those around me, I had to take more breaks to breath and I quickly fell behind.  I knew I wouldn't be first, I knew I would be near the end, but I was really starting to get scared about coming in DEAD LAST!  Around mile 3 I noticed that I kept passing and being passed by this same girl, so I nodded to her and said "I'm just going to stick with you!" She smiled and said "we can hold hands across the finish line!"  We would run, walk, run together for the rest of the race and just having her there, this complete stranger, made so much of a difference.  I no longer felt like I wasn't good enough to be doing this race (as I was near the back of the pack).  We encouraged each other along the way, groaned at the hills, waved at the traffic cops and suddenly the race was fun again.  Finally we made it to the finish line and crossed together- NOT last, by the way (okay, it was pretty close, but WE FINISHED!).

I'm really glad I did the race.  I wish it had been under different circumstances, but honestly I'm just really proud.  I finished at 1h17, which is only 2 minutes slower than my usual 10k time on the treadmill and my goal time.  Pretty good for being sick!  I will say, I have done a few 5Ks and never even come close to being last- and that was walking a good portion, pushing a stroller and carrying a baby!  But apparently 10Ks are a tad more competitive.  Now I know.  Plus, I have a really easy PR to beat for NEXT TIME!