I do not have the greatest patience in my personal life it seems.
I’ve recently been thinking about how I’m doing here. I feel like I face a lot of little obstacles. Exhaustion of a thousand little tasks and decisions. Add to this lofty ambitions, a dash of high expectations, no patience and a respiratory virus…
That is where I find myself.
About two weeks ago, I came down with a cold. I was already trying desperately to dodge the coldest weather so as not to irritate my leg. Now, with my throat feeling like I was swallowing a cheese grater, it took substantial effort jut to get through the typical day. And of course, that would mean one of my more atypical days for the year would be right there on the calendar staring at me.
Each year there is a sizable charity event that our company supports. It is an all day event spent interacting with 100+ individuals over the course of 16 hours. It was here that I forced myself through the peak of my illness because there was not really any other options.
I paid the price for it though.
The next day, I was essentially dead on my feet. I still had regular duties to attend to, but fortunately they trended light and I had help tag in to relieve me.
The impact on my running 6 days later was especially frustrating. Friday was a glorious warm day. It was perfect for me to launch into my longest ever run, peaking mileage as I enter one month before my first marathon. I was hyped. I had someone who was going to drive ahead in my route to support me even.
My lungs would not have it.
I still had, and still do at this time, a cough trying to get all the crap out of my lungs. As I set out on my run I felt good and strong. About one mile in I had a slight coughing fit, but shook it off easily enough. It was around mile 3 that I felt like I was in trouble. Like all the energy was just sapping right out of me. I was starting to really fall off my pace, each footfall starting to gain more weight as I swung my legs into it. When I was coming up a familiar and comfortable stretch of trail towards my first support meet, I was struggling. I kept running but hit my mile six support area 15 minutes behind my projection.
24 miles was not going to happen.
I was crushed. And coughing something furious. I felt slightly sore in my limbs and could tell that my uncharacteristic fatigue was from a lack of oxygen getting through my system. I had to call it a day.
The waiting game, again.
So, now I wait to have my lungs clear. The urge is to slam myself out onto the road as soon as physically possible. I am desperate to make up for lost time. These past two months have been brutal to me and my hopes. Patience and planning and strategic pushing can still get me back on track. I’m not giving up. What I am at this point is very frustrated. No point hoping for a miracle, however. There’s a price I will have to pay in time and hard work in the near future.