Things were going pretty good for a week there. I fit in six runs over eight days. I pulled off a couple solo jaunts. I did a nice long fifteen klick tour with the crew. And I even did another (more) successful tempo. And then my sinuses decided that they hadn’t been infected in a while so promptly filled up with snot and left me in a cottonheaded daze on the couch for four days. Day five I played it safe and took an extra day of “I don’t trust you sinuses” rest, and now on day six I’m hoping I strong enough to get back into the rhythm. Lost… almost a whole week of training on a short schedule. Drat!
It’s been a few months.
This is my “I’m sick of being sick” face. You can’t see it, but believe me: I’m glowering at the computer monitor right now. Groan. So, short story: Apparently I ran that half marathon eight days ago with the start of a flu. Sorry if I infected you. I didn’t figure it out myself for about 36 hours, at which point I passed out and broke into a two-day-long fever followed by a non-stop coughing fit that has turned into bronchitis. I’m almost better now –just almost– a week later, but I think my new years resolution for 2017 is going to be “don’t get sick for the first six weeks of the year.”
It sounds ridiculously stubborn, but admitting I was ill enough to take some sick days… from both work and running.
I don’t know what it’s called but probably something about having a never ending cold and feeling like you want to go back to bed.
If sick days count, then last week. *cough* *cough* aaaaaah-choo!
These days: a dry, hacking cough that I can’t seem to shake.
How not to start the new year? How about with a head cold on the long weekend. #norunningtoday
a mash-up of medicine & breaking (families)
In this age of digital social media sharing, Tweet’ing every aspect of our lives and Facebook’ing every detail of our day-to-days, is there a realm of personal disclosure that pushes the limits of appropriateness and risks fracturing familiar relationships as a result?
The question emerged recently in a family discussion, and with no intended offense to the parties involved (who may someday read this essay) here is a summary of what happened: Relative A was in the hospital. Relative B went to visit, took a photo on their phone, and posted said photo to the Internet. Relatives C through Z (and likely a few others) viewed the photo.
It’s going to be a cold month, and starting it off with being ill is not the best approach. I always seem to cut these annual targets down to the wire, honing in my goal tally just as the year rolls to a close. In 2014 I’d originally set a massive distance target, upwards of 1700 klicks, but adjusted that when I threw out my back in May. The adjusted goal of 1313 klicks for the year (an odd number, I know) is on track with just a measly 140 klicks to log before the end of the year, but this (temporary deep freeze) has me noting that I’ll still need to run those klicks I’m missing sitting on the couch this weekend, recovering and staying warm. One forty for December? That’s completely achievable… but like every other year, it’s gonna be down to the wire again.
If you consider a sports injury “sick” then, just recently. Otherwise months ago.
I’m about to get a little bit mushy on you.
Claire was sick on Sunday. She’d been a little under the weather, fighting a minor cough that had her barking and fussy in the middle of the nights, but she’d been coping. As an aside, part of me thinks its allergies, while the other part of my just thinks… well… I don’t want to speculate to wildly so I’ll just leave it at that.
But then Sunday she was really sick. Tossing, grumpy, headachy.
And in retrospect, having played outside and played hard for the whole of Saturday, playing host to the neighbor kids and climbing back and forth through her new fence hole-portal countless times, running, chasing, digging in the dirt for worms, and all that fun stuff, I’ll go out on a limb here and suggest it was probably a touch of heat stroke. If she at all takes after her dad — poor girl — she’ll deal with a mild intolerance for warm weather for the rest of her life. (It’s only May and I’ve already had one round!)
So, she was really sick. Crashingly sick. Tossing, resting, not eating, and tossing some more. Not fun, no matter how you look at it.
I’ll brag here: I stepped up. Yeah, I went out for a quick run in the morning and left her with her mom (and visiting grandparents) but then I got back, rinsed off, and settled into a quiet and relaxing day with my sick little daughter cuddled up with me for a solid three or four hours. We parked on the couch in the cooler part of the house, read stories, had an epic dose of quiet time, and even had a long nap, her legs draped across my lap and my head lolling back into the cushions.
By the time our little sick-siesta was over, she was strong enough to scarf a bowl of Shreddies, and we even went out to the playground for a while before dinner (where she ate half a hamburger with no ill effects.)
She went to bed a little earlier than normal — of course — and I settled down for a chance to put my feet up for the evening. And you know what… she actually hopped out of bed and came into the living room to thank me. That’s right: “Daddy, thank you for looking after me today.”