What kind of idiot tries to run when the virus they can’t seem to shake off has got onto their chest?
This one. Here.
I have had another low mileage week. I’ve been struggling to breathe, moving makes me cough, and my lungs are hurting. Any normal, sensible person would have rested. But then again, they would have told themselves that it’s better to get fully fit, and that trying to push things will set them back. More importantly, they would have realised that with the training done so far, they could easily get back into it, once they had sensibly got better.
Me? I torment myself with thoughts of failure. I put pressure on myself to get back onto the treadmill. I feel guilty, not only because I can’t do anything, but because I’ve raised £700 of my £2,000 target, and I feel that I will be letting them down too.
So what happened?
I got on the treadmill; even I wasn’t stupid enough to try running in the freezing cold rain this morning. The aim was to try and get through as many of the 18 miles scheduled, even if it meant slowing down to just over 9 minute mile pace. It would have been a great recovery plan IF I had recovered. I barely managed 2.25 miles before having to hit the stop button. I was shivering, yet dripping with sweat (I don’t normally drip with sweat, not so it’s running down my arms and back). I was struggling to breathe, and could hear the rasping wheeze over the sound of my iPod. As for the cough, don’t get me started.
The problem I have is that my other condition, hypermobility syndrome, means that I need to keep some kind of physical activity going, otherwise my joints start to play up. I opted for the recumbent bike, where I could sit back and keep my lungs open. For the record, I hate the recumbent bike.
If you have already sponsored me, thanks so much. Please be assured that I have learned my lesson, and will be training more sensibly this week, IF I have recovered.
If you haven’t sponsored me, your faith in me will help me to get back on track in this last few weeks.