Sick and Tired

The last five days have been, in a word, awful. Looking back, the previous week, up until my last rest day, was just great. I felt strong enough, made all my workouts; even Swim Coach Petra's evil little laughs at swim practice every time she promised us "a little surprise" later in our hour (which turned out to be a 12-min uninterrupted swim) didn't phase me too much. And Friday felt like my first real rest day in a long time. I didn't have to work, spent the morning with my friend Amber, who made delicious breakfast burritos, and, with Pat, served a delicious St. Patty's day meal to friends in the evening.

And then it all went to hell. I had the worst weekend of workouts. Friday night we had some snow and ice (I know - in March, right?) so our group practice on Saturday was cancelled. So Pat and I were in it together to manage a 80-minute bike and 10-min run. Since by Saturday it wasn't actively snowing, or raining, we opted to ride outside. Any enthusiasm I had for that idea stalled out as soon as we turned inland from the Potomac River into an evil wind that pushed us sideways and backwards for, well, it felt like eternity, though I guess it was probably really only about a half hour, until we turned onto the more protected Custis Trail (of hilly-terrain fame). In retrospect, it doesn't sound so bad, but at the time I felt what would have been murderous, if struggling with the wind had left me any energy left for murder.

That bit of fun was topped off on Sunday with a swim that, prior to getting into the pool, I was kind of looking forward to. I knew it would be a challenging workout (2,600 yards of swimming, by far our longest yet), but I thought I could do a pretty good job. Instead, about halfway into it, I found myself in that same exhausted-but-violent funk, ready to either do serious harm to anyone who came close or to burst into underwater tears. So, yes, I finished the workout, but without much feeling of satisfaction.

I was almost relieved on Monday, when Pat and I hit the gym at lunchtime for a successful weight-training session. But - God forbid a recovery-week day go by without any excitement - two hours after finishing up at the gym, I was sitting at my desk, attempting to work, but constantly interrupted by... that feeling. You know the one. The feeling that maybe something in your body isn't working quite right? That maybe, just maybe, you should get up and slowly, carefully, walk over to the bathroom across the building that no one's ever in, because maybe, just possibly, you are coming down with the stomach flu?

Well, after three entirely uneventful slow races to said bathroom, I finally figured that while I probably wasn't going to barf at work (one of my very greatest secret fears), I most likely was running a fever. (How did I know? Glad you asked. I have learned over my adult life that any increase in my body temperature is accompanied by a directly proportional increase in my tendency to become inexplicably weepy over nothing.) So as I sniffled softly at my desk and attempted to not attract attention, I decided that the odds of my getting any more productive time from my day were nil, and headed home. And I've been here ever since. I can't remember the last time I needed two recovery days off of work because of the flu, but here I am.

Needless to say, this has put a stop on any workouts over the last two-and-a-half days, which has led to mixed emotions. On the one hand, I can't believe how easy it is to wave feverishly (heh) at Pat as he wheels his bike out the door, then loll around for the next hour until he walks in the door. On the other, even yesterday, when I hadn't eaten anything more than an english muffin in 36 hours, something in me kept whispering, "Get up. Do something." Embarrassingly, I tried going for a walk. It couldn't have been more than 20 minutes, but by the time I got home, I just had to lie down.

So, it's been a triple-whammy over the last week and a half. Mentally, emotionally, physically I've taken a pounding. I'm sure that someday, when I'm well past this and the race is run (and ridden and swum), I'll say how this period was such a good learning experience, how it really tested my ability to persevere and forced me to blah blah blah. But right now, I'm just hoping that my body, my mind and my heart are all close to healing up so we can get back to the task at hand.