the culprit

Last week was the perfect storm of two different 14 hour work days, organizing a stressful project, and a nasty head cold that made me feel like I was the walking dead.  By Thursday afternoon I was done with trying to fake it, so I quickly wrote substitute teacher lesson plans for Friday before heading home to take twice the recommended dose of over-the-counter meds and sleep.  That was the first sick day i’d taken all year, but I still felt guilty about doing it.  I hate missing work.  Getting out of bed on Friday long enough to eat two bowls of chicken noodle soup while watching PBS in a recumbent position on the couch, it was then another round of doubling the meds before going back to bed.  Sleeping felt amazing and was exactly what I needed, logging close to 36 hours of slumber in a 48 hour period.  By Saturday morning my head cold was markedly better, but an upset stomach had magically appeared, requiring me to spend a considerable amount of time in the bathroom before things were back to normal.  I’ve always appreciated a good cleansing every now and then, and that’s exactly what I got.  

I thought that my first weekend of tapering for the Little Rock Marathon would be a total bust, what with a crazy-stressful week followed by a head cold, but I felt surprisingly well after emerging unscathed from the restroom and decided to lace up and go out for a shorter distance than planned.  Maybe 10 instead of 15, staying close to my car in case I wanted to stop even before that.  I’m not for sure how to explain it, but the planned 15 that got changed to 10 at the last minute ultimately wound up being a 19er with no issues whatsoever.  The last mile was a bit dicey, as I could feel my stomach churning once again for a reprieve, but I finished the mileage with no accidents or embarrassments.  

The rest of the day found me back on the couch fading in and out of naps as men’s speed skating at the Sochi Olympics played on the TV, but the Jamaican bobsled team could have been competing for gold and I would have never known the difference.  I didn’t move, literally, the entire day save for a few trips to the kitchen for more soup and Gatorade.  Waxing nostalgic via text message with a few running friends about going 19 miles on a taper run with a head cold and an upset stomach, I closed my eyes and thought about just how much I love to run.  It’s my happy hour, my duck blind, my going to the movies, my dinner with friends, my Kindle, my passport stamps, my Pinterest all rolled in to one.  And for right now, it’s all I really want to do.  That might change, but it just as well might not.  After promising Jamie Huneycutt that I would drink one more bottle of Gatorade, I went to bed early for the third night in a row.

     
Not only is Jamie a great friend and awesome distance runner, but she’s also an RN and knew that I was having stomach issues, so when I sat next to her this morning at St. Paul’s she immediately inquired if things were back to normal for me and I triumphantly reported that they were, having had no issues in close to 24 hours.  We both got a good laugh about that as the service started, only to be startled a few minutes later when, right in the middle of the Gospel reading, the octogenarian sitting on the other side of me, let loose what can only be described as a mighty wind, not missing a beat as she followed along in her bulletin.  Bless her heart, I don’t think she even knew it happened.  I was immediately mortified that Jamie, knowing I had been having stomach issues, would think that I was the culprit. There was nothing that could be done other than continue to solemnly stand in prayerful thought as the words of Matthew were read aloud to the congregation.  Only God and myself will know the truth.  I digress.

When church finally let out I ducked prostrate out of a side door faster than a knife fight in a phone booth, only to find a voicemail from Mrs. Murie wanting to run Lake Fayetteville.  It was too nice outside to not go with her, so I met her at the trailhead and did a second loop after she had done one already.

We had an outstanding run, varying between taking it easy to catch up and pushing the pace for considerable stretches.  The weather was too inviting to not amp it up a little bit and my legs responded surprisingly well coming off of 19 miles.  The Little Rock Marathon is in two short weeks, so hopefully head colds and prolonged bathroom time are officially behind me.  I’ll try once again next week to taper back the mileage, but I’m making no promises as of now.  If the feeling strikes, as it often does, i’m going to head out on the trails and do the only the only thing that I know how to do.  That’s just how it’s going to be.

Run.