This is, quite possibly, one of the hardest posts I’ve written. If you’re not a runner, you may find it self-indulgent, self-pitying nonsense. I’d like to think my running friends will understand how bittersweet it’s been.
After the parkrun, I took things pretty easy for the rest of last Saturday. I sorted out my bag, and my kit, carefully pinning my number to my club t-shirt, with a precision only I seem to care about (I like my number to be dead centre, and perfectly straight), and set my alarm. I then enjoyed an early night.
I woke at about 4am, needing to use my inhaler. My chest felt heavy, and I was struggling to breathe. The whooshy feeling in my head, I put down to being half-asleep. This should’ve been a warning, but I didn’t pick up on it. I am not a deep sleeper.
When my alarm went, I struggled to get out of bed. This did not feel good. In fact, I didn’t feel like getting up, at all. As I made my way downstairs, I felt dizzy, and I nearly fainted when I got into the kitchen. By the time I’d gone back upstairs, I was burning up. I didn’t feel like running. I just wanted to climb back into bed.
I sent The Bloke a text (he was away in Italy, for work), and he phoned back pretty much straightaway. I’d also messaged my friends, but I had to make the difficult, yet sensible, decision to not run.
I was gutted. I’d trained for it, maybe not as well as I’d have liked, having had almost every cold going this winter. I was looking forward to it, and had high hopes.
I spent the next three days mostly sleeping. The chills, followed by the scorching hot flushes, the all over aches, and the suddenness that it had come on, suggest it was flu. So much for that flu jab. *rollseyes*
I was sent a message with all my friends’ times, and everyone smashed it. Whilst I was, and still am, delighted, it’s been hard not to think about what I could have done. It actually has upset me, because I was really looking forward to this race. I missed out on what was a fantastic day, and that hurts.
I also feel as though I’ve let myself down. My rubbish immune system doesn’t seem to respond to anything; vitamins, supplements, fresh food, whatever, nothing seems to help. My confidence, which is fragile at the best of times, is shattered. I feel as though I’ll never be well again. I need to snap out of this malaise, but I can’t see any glimmer of hope.