The Moral of the Story is…Don’t Attempt a 12-Mile Run When Hopped Up on Cold Medication!

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So, interestingly enough, my Sunday post for today ties into my last post. But it is a 180 in a sense, since this post shows how much of an idiot I can be. Since taking that “unplanned day off“, I ended becoming more sick. On Friday morning of our SWATCA Teacher’s Convention, I woke up feeling like a bus had run over my body after running a full marathon. My head was pounding, my sinuses were clogged. My throat burned when I coughed. I was just feeling oh-so-lovely. I half-ass got ready for convention, and made my way to the University of Lethbridge at 7:30 am. If this had been a regular school day, I would have strongly considered calling in sick-and I don’t call in sick. I went to the chairperson’s breakfast (I was chairing a secondary mathematics assessment session at 10:30) and forced down some tea and watermelon. I apologize to anyone I came in contact with that day because I either a) looked like death b) ignored looking at you c) ignored talking to you, or d) all of the above.

As soon as I dropped off the evaluations for my session, I drove straight to Shoppers Drug Mart and did a rare thing for me-bought some OTC medicine. I wanted to cure this thing fast. After talking to one of the techs, I decided to go big or go home. I bought a box of Tylenol Complete-Cold, Cough & Flu PLUS mucus relief! The bullet points on the package were made for me–nasal congestion, dry cough, headache, sore throat pain, aches, pains & chills…this would save me.

I religiously took my two capsules every six hours. I took a nap with Snoopy (the beagle is truly the best medicine!). I also made my “I am sick, feel sorry for me” dinner-two packs of ramen noodles with only half a packet of the sodium blast. I was going to these CRAZY extremes because I had a goal-to run 12 miles with marathon club Saturday.

I woke up Saturday morning feeling a ton better. My body didn’t ache (but I didn’t take into account the mass amount of drugs in my system causing this revelation). I got up at 6:30. Had some oatmeal. Hydrated. Dressed in appropriate layers. Bid my husband ‘adieu!’ and drove to Runner’s Soul. I could do this.

I had the wise idea to run with the marathon trainers today instead of the half. While I am only doing half marathons this year (my full won’t be until the Goofy Challenge in January 2014) I wanted to get 12 miles in, as my first half of the year is next Saturday-The Hypothermic Half in Lethbridge. . So, I set out with it in my head that I would do a 10-minute mile pace, drink lots of water from my Osprey water backpack, and I’d be good. It’d be that easy.

OK…any of you in Lethbridge or Alberta know how windy it can get down here. Saturday was, excuse my French, fucking ridonkulous. Any direction you turned, the wind was against you. I tried thinking positive, thinking it would get better...but that never happened. Anyway, I ran the first 5 miles pretty solid. I was feeling great. I was on pace, going slower than normal, but sticking with the plan. Honestly, after the first 4, I think I said out loud all theatrical and such “I’m a third way done!” I really had it in my head that running cures the common cold.

Then, I hit Bridge Drive. Please take a second to look at this map, though it doesn’t do justice:
http://www.runnersoul.com/admin/resources/49-1.pdf

The wind was piling in, the incline was steep, my throat was starting to burn, and my chest was hurting. I kept my head up and lifted my knees, taking smaller steps. But I had to walk. My chest was pounding so much and I started panicking. I didn’t want to quit. I basically power walked straight into the wind for 3/4 of a mile up Bridge Drive. Once I got to the top, I was going to start running again-I didn’t want to quit. So I started a slow jog, but then almost burst into tears. My body was giving up-Tylenol Complete can only do so much.

I smartly had brought my cell phone in my backpack and called my husband. I asked him to pick me up from the westside Tim Hortons. I felt defeated. When he got there to get me, I apologetically said “I’m Sorry” for no reason. What was I sorry for? Making him come get me? Being an idiot? Oh yeah-I was sorry for not listening to him….because before I left this morning, I forgot to add he said “I really don’t think you should be running.”

He’s sitting on the other couch right now as I type this. He told me yesterday he wanted me to title this blog as “Always Listen to Your Husband.” I won’t do that, but I will say that he was right. And I was an idiot to try to do otherwise yesterday. I came home, took a shower, and drugged myself up more. I made my same lovely “feel sorry for me I am sick” dinner, and went to bed by 8:30 pm. Yes, I even feel better today than I did yesterday, but that’s the power of these drugs-it’s hiding the fact I am still sick.
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I ran 6 miles yesterday. 6 miles sick. 6 miles I shouldn’t have even run. But, in my mind, I was supposed to run 12 miles. Initially, I was pissed I quit. This is only the second time in the past 9 years I had to stop and call someone to pick me up. . I still need to learn when it is more important to take a day off, and that it isn’t the end of the world. My legs and my body have been conditioned to this type of running over the years, so I will be fine this coming Saturday for my race–as long as I take care of myself first. It’s not like I am going out there trying to win a title or get my personal best. I am going out there to run for my dad–which is why I think I put the pressure on myself to run too soon. But, please note–if I had been able to call my dad to pick me up at the top of Bridge Drive on Saturday, I would have gotten in the car and his first words would have been “You’re a ::insert swear here:: idiot Andrea. You should have just stayed home.” And I would have responded-“You would have tried to do the same ::insert swear word here:: thing!”

In my medicated mind, this picture exemplifies how I wish my drive home from Bridge Drive had been.

In my medicated mind, this picture exemplifies how I wish my drive home from Bridge Drive had been.

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2 responses »

  1. I agree that your dad would have done the same thing. He didn’t listen either when it came to his workouts–even after his surgery. He’d tell me he was only doing 5 lb. dumbbell curls but when he heard me coming down the stairs I’d hear the “thunk” of the heavier weights he was using & him sitting there looking all innocent. Like father like daughter I guess. No, I know!

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