Floored by an ignoble infection

Well there’s exactly a month to go, so I am compelled to post. I feel I should be at the peak of my condition, thinking about beginning the ‘taper’ (doing less exercise as far as I can gather) before the big event.

I’m miserable.

And inactive.

And playing unwilling and unwitting host to some sort of nameless, random, occupying virus.

I was resoundingly chastised yesterday by one of the doctors at my GP’s. I think it was more the tone of her voice that got through my dense skull rather than her words. She said she’d seen too many incidences of people who’d ended up in hospital after training hard while they have a virus. Apparently the training drives the virus deeper into the chest (not my words) and can cause serious issues. Hospital. Bloods. Oxygen. Complications. Death.

In the doctor’s defence I did ask her to detail how serious, because I know how obdurate I can be on occasion (and I’m not always the best at listening to advice). Do you know that spells BOCHD (sounds like ‘botched’).  Hmmm. That’s a bit like how I feel just now. Ooh I’ve just looked up botch. Inept. Ooh, that definitely just about sums me up right now.  Thrice ooh, do you suppose I’m channelling my inactivity into a self-criticism phase, I can’t quite tell.

Anyway, yesterday was day nine into a head-y, cough-y type lurgy.  I’d seen the nurse practitioner after 48 hours. She listened to my chest and said it was clear so of course I did my long run 36 hours after that. It did wipe me out a bit. I did very little for the rest of the day. But that’s exactly my normal pattern after a long run. I take it easy. Didn’t think much of it.

But I’ve done no running since. I’d done a bit of non-aerobic gym work and core work, and the like, but no running. By day nine I was still a bit cough-y etc, so thought I’d check in with a medico.  Wasn’t expecting to get quite such a b*llo*king.

Now, of course I trust the good doctor knows her stuff. But there’s still this thing on my shoulder saying don’t be such a wimp. Get out there. Run through it. There’s only a month to go, I can’t let up on my training regime (which of course I’ve already let up on). Etc. Etc.

For the record, I’ve stopped all exercise (for the moment).

With only a month to go. Bug**r.

Utter, utter, bug**r.

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