Take a Deep Breath

As much as I’m trying to be positive and keep moving forward, I have to admit, I am in a bit of a rut lately. After getting my first marathon cancelled due to injury, I followed the prescribed medical protocol and then registered for another race and began training again and feeling great. And then I got hit with a month-long (so far!) bout with bronchitis and some other little virus on top of it. I should have known I’d be sick for at least as long as all the people at my work who have had it. People around here have been suffering for eight and ten weeks; one lady has had it since the week after Thanksgiving! Here I am on week six, and although I have been able to do a few two- and three-mile runs, I have been weak and sick and short of breath, and am now officially behind in training and feeling somewhat discouraged. Actually, really discouraged.



Normally, my blog would be my first stop when I’m discouraged, but I am kinda sick of hearing myself bitch, and so I haven't been writing much. I’m not a victim or a martyr, but there is part of me that is thinking, “What the hell?!?! Can’t I get a damn break?!” I feel like every other post is about me having to put off training to heal from something! And I hate feeling like that. With me, what always comes along with the feelings of helplessness and being discouraged is a nice bout of emotional eating. I have been eating like crap lately; I skipped my healthy work breakfast this morning and instead had the second breakfast burrito of the week. They have been bringing in breakfast for our team frequently because we are working long hours troubleshooting our new website, and then the launch was delayed and the excutives are trying to show their support, so they keep bringing in crappy food to apparently ease the stress (it means more stress for me!). So this morning, I headed to the kitchen to make my whole wheat English muffin, and opened the fridge and see a row of ten breakfast burritos left over from yesterday. So I grabbed one and warmed it up and ate it for breakfast, feeling guilty with every single bite. This is so not ok! I have been eating poorly and not moving enough, and my pants feel tight and I feel bad about myself. And I just want to run!


My doctor told me this is the worst year of bronchitis she has seen in her 15 years as a physician. As a consolation prize for being a victim of the Great Bronchitis Epidemic of Oh-eleven, she gave me a rescue inhaler, more antibiotics and some nighttime cough syrup (which seems to do nothing but give me a hangover the next day) and told me to wait a couple more weeks before running anything more than a couple of miles. But guess what? I should be running five miles today and ten this Saturday and I have a ten-mile race next Saturday that I feel horribly unprepared for. And I feel like a giant FAILURE. And I feel fat and ugly and lazy. I am sick of obstacles! I want something to run smoothly. Namely, me.

Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. I suppose that is my rant for today. I don’t want to be a downer, but am just suffering in the throes of frustration. I WILL do this marathon no matter what. I don’t care if I have to go straight to the hospital afterwards; this is happening. However, I am asking the gods of running to grant me a little favor. Let this get a tiny bit easier, ok? I can handle obstacles, and I will keep trying to overcome them, but just give me a month or two where everything is peachy and I can get back on track? Ok? Ok. I won’t let you down.


Attempting five slow miles this evening with rescue inhaler in hand. Then dinner with a friend, where I will order wisely and drink water instead of wine. I can do this.