While most folks are groaning about pumpkin-pie overload and tryptophan hangovers, I'm just thankful to be upright with a temperature of 98.6. I got knocked sideways last week by a fever and hacking cough. It crept up on me on Tuesday, but by Wednesday morning I sensed working out was not a wise idea. By Thursday, I was huddled under the covers in my feverish-sweat-soaked p.j.s. Yup, on Thanksgiving, I never even got dressed, a true rarity in my get-up, get-ready world.
Getting sick makes everyone miserable, and I'm no exception, but for me so much of my pity-party is caused by lack of workout. Thanksgiving was the only day I felt too crummy to exercise--a run didn't even cross my fever-addled brain. But on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, I most certainly entertained the idea of a workout, just a little sweat-session. On Day 1 of my illness, the mind-monkeys were particurlarly loud. The fact it was sunny only made matters worse. Finally, mid-afternoon, I put on my Nikes and went for a 20-minute walk. No perspiration, but at least I got a small dose of sunshine.
On Friday and Saturday, I knew hubby-Jack was watching me for signs of idiocy, uh, I mean activity. Coincidentally, I had been sick on Thanksgiving 2008 so he sensed I was pulling a fast one. (If so, I should audition for the role of a TB sufferer, as my coughing acting-chops are well honed...) While I probably could have limped out a short run or a session on a stationary bike, the truth was I didn't have the energy. I hadn't eaten much for days as my appetite was nil.
When I finally went for a trial run yesterday morning, I felt like I was running on fumes. Literally. My legs were running, but my head was swimming. I only went for 30 minutes, an unheard-of short run for me, but it felt plenty long. Today's 48-minute one felt much closer to normal, until I checked the pace on my Nikeplus--about 25 seconds per mile slower than usual.
But I'm confident I'll be right as rain before too long. How do I know? On this morning's run, instead of feverish delusions, my mind swirled with visions of an hour forty-something PR at my mid-January half-marathon. Along with my temperature, my attitude is back to normal, too.