I’m back on Bill’s couch but sitting upright, dressed in jeans and a sweater, waiting for browned butter to cool so I can continue making chocolate chip cookies, a much improved state from last weekend. I took it easy Monday and Tuesday nights but couldn’t shake the sore throat, cough and overall lethargic feeling that was hovering over me. I worked until noon on Wednesday (I managed to run six miles with a friend that morning) before I could no longer deny I was getting sick. If I just go home and relax for the afternoon, I thought, I’ll be fine by the morning. When Thursday rolled around I felt worse; my voice had abandoned me, leaving a dry, scratchy croak in its place. I admitted partial defeat by calling out but worked from home most of the morning.
I was scheduled to run 3 miles on Thursday, my second week of marathon training, and entertained the idea out load, in a whisper, to Bill before he left for work. I wouldn’t go out until later, I reasoned. Bill didn’t think it was a good idea and said so. I wrote in my last blog post that I thought I was coming down with a cold. My aunt, who reads this blog, told me to ‘cool it’ in the comments. My friend in Florida, who also read my last post, strongly suggested I visit my doctor having just finished a z-pack for her bout with bronchitis. I took their suggestions and laid low. I lounged the afternoon away; never showered; never put my lenses in; never left my house. I washed and dried two loads of laundry but have yet to fold them. I napped, pillows propped behind my neck to keep me somewhat upright, my throat hurt less in that position. I watched Netflix. I read a little. In other words, I didn’t do very much and it drove me a little nuts.
I’m easily bored; best when active, talking, moving, doing. In my fantasy, when I call out from work, I spend the day writing, reading, maybe cooking or baking, definitely running and exercising, not sick. In reality I didn’t feel like doing any of those things. I was told a long time ago, and my mom reminded me this week, the body never lies. My body was telling me it needed rest. I tried negotiating with it early on but conceded mid-week. Today, seven days out, I’m feeling much better; a slight cough lingers and the croak hasn’t completely left my throat, minor irritants, but I’m ready to start running again. And talking, moving, doing, baking cookies.
I ended up skipping that 3 mile run on Thursday and a 12 mile run today but when I see my aunt for lunch in two weeks I can look her in the eye and tell her I cooled it.