I was within 12 miles and one day of meeting my (stupid, stupid) 40+ mpw goal when everything fell apart.
Monday: 2 (AM 1 + weights/PM 1)
Tuesday: 4 (8:23 avg pace)
Wednesday: 6 (AM 4/PM 2)
Thursday: 8 (9:00 avg pace)
Friday: 10 (AM 5.5/PM 4.5)
Saturday/Sunday: 0 (AT DEATH’S DOOR.)
Friday evening after a couple of rather punishing runs outside in the cold, I noticed a familiar grating feeling in the back of my throat. I drank a couple of gallons of hot, hot tea and a couple gallons of Nyquil and went to bed, confident I’d wake up feeling refreshed and ready to do 12 miles on Saturday. Or 6 and 6. Or, jesus, in the very least a cursory 5k.
But we all know where this is going. Who in holy analgesic hell has ever woken up refreshed after taking Nyquil?
I felt like I’d been hit by a train. My whole body ached and I had that horrible, unproductive, uncontrollable dry cough where your eyeballs bug out and your ribs ache. (On the bright side, it’s been a fantastic core workout for me. Bikini season, here I come!)
I continued the regimen of scalding hot liquids yesterday and did the Nyquil shuffle again last night, and I feel a lot better. Still, instead of spending another month wondering if I am immune deficient or perhaps just the filthiest person alive, I’m going to the doctor tomorrow. I’ve a race coming up and I could use some legitimate drugs.
I was going to take it easy this week, wanting to go into the race on fresh legs. I guess now I’ll be going into it on really, really fresh legs.
Oh, and since I got a smattering of praise for those baby photos a couple posts ago, I offer you my first homemade animated gif: I call it “What’s in the box?”
She was captivated by this box for nearly 10 minutes.