I got sick last weekend.
It was a "typical" Memphis summer sickness, in that it was a twofer: The temps decided to climb back into the mid-90s, with humidity at a percentage that would make Hermione Granger jealous, combined with a marked increase in...whatever causes sinus infections. I spent most of the weekend, and the early part of the week, walking around feeling like someone shoved a double-handful of wet concrete into my skull.
Fascinating, you may say (though I honestly doubt it), but what, pray tell, has this to do with training for the Urb?
I woke up Saturday morning intending to grind out my long run of 7 miles (yes, I know, "long" is rather relative. My blog, my rules. And get off my lawn). Never happened, because I decided to do what I've read about, but rarely do: I listened to my body. My body was telling me, "Kind sir. If you put us through 7 miles, even at 6 AM, when the temps will only be "wow, it's gonna be hot later," we will do unspeakable things to your respiratory system. Your call." I stayed away from the gym, and the roads, until Wednesday.
TWO LESSONS LEARNED:
1. Man, gotta listen to the body. Yes, I was DYING having to miss that many days of training, especially since we're inside of two months to race day. Those long runs are precious, at this point, and missing one was BAD. That said, destroying my immune system, and possibly needing sick days to recover, would have been WORSE.
2. Man, gotta STOP listening at some point. Monday I had to head back into the classroom, and I have learned that if I combine DayQuil and coffee...I see sounds and hear colors, I'm so wired. That day was rough, but I was able to handle Tuesday, so I decided to head back into the routine.
Yes, I was tired, sore, and not entirely motivated. Yes, I would have LIKED to skip another day. But isn't that a pretty good sign that I'm back to relative health?
When the illness becomes the excuse, not the explanation, it's time to kick the meds to the curb, and step off the curb and back into the grind. Those stadium steps aren't escalators, and as much as I love running along Lake Michigan, I'd rather not have to WALK along the route.
Until next time,
Tom
2T4:7
