I have not been flattened-out-sick since sometime before the pandemic. I’ve had covid twice and both times I was extremely lucky that the symptoms were so mild that I didn’t even stop working out. Then came this past Sunday. Flattened. Making it from the couch to the bathroom was a project. Retrieving my computer to watch a movie. A massive effort. My phone recorded zero steps. I thought I might have a sunburn, from spending so much time outdoors the day before on a sunny, frigid day (-15C), though I was careful with sunscreen. Then I realized that my face was fever-red. My head bursting. Coughing like my smoker grandparents. All plans (which I was so looking forward to) canceled.
At first, despite my level 9 discomfort, I didn’t want to believe I was sick. That’s why the sunburn theory, which lasted a red-hot minute (literally).
Even though I have an auto immune condition, I still want to believe that I don’t get sick. Oh, and I also don’t want to call my auto immune condition by its name, which contains the word disease. Addison’s Disease. As if, if I don’t say that word, then the condition will be less than it is. Which is medication three times a day for my life. Not to improve my quality of life. But to ensure that I live.
I especially didn’t want to be sick because on Saturday I ran a broken up 21k, which involved an outdoor run, followed by a treadmill workout, followed by two more blocks of running outdoors to get home. So, the run included all sorts of transitions from cold to indoors to subways to indoors to outdoors etc. I even finished the run with a pair of boots under each arm, that I’d picked up at the shoe repair 6 blocks from home.
One of my challenges to myself for this year is to run one 21k per month. Saturday (though the 31st) was my February 21k. Check. And then because that wasn’t enough, for good measure, I did a 2-hour walk with a friend in the afternoon. By the end of which, I was well and truly done with the cold.
I did NOT want to admit that my maximalist Saturday had turned out to be too much.
It was too much.
Can I allow that to be what it is? Penguin awkward! And not use it as something to criticize myself and my lack of fortitude?
A work in progress.
p.s this post is short and not polished as I would have liked, because … sick (I am, sigh) and out of energy.
Feel better, Mina.