I started this post last Wednesday – 20 days to race day. And I had one last week of push before the 2 week taper.
But I guess Mother Nature’s pollen and my body had other ideas. Instead of that last week of added effort, I’ve spent most of the time this week curled up in bed convinced that I have the plague.
And mostly super frustrated.
I guess at least I should be glad that I’m sick 3 weeks out and not 3 days out like I was at one of my marathons 4 years ago.
Am I ready to take on London? Yes, I have been ready for a while. And yes, I will recover in time.
Those were my words mid last week.
I was feeling especially ugh that day and had missed my last medium-long midweek run of 10 miles. I took the next two days to recover. I felt so much better on Saturday and managed to eek out an 18 mile run with some super super super slow pacing (almost 2.5 min/mile slower than my pace). Sunday I went out for what was supposed a 6 mile run with friends and turned back at about 1.75 miles – I just wasn’t feeling it and was coughing more than I had the previous day. And headed in straight to the doctor.
The first look was that I looked “ok” but they wanted to do whatever other checks just in case since I have the trip coming up in 10 days. And yep – strep and bronchitis.
I’m on Amoxycillin now and hopefully that will clear up things in a day or two.
It is what it is and I will make the best of what I have, once I manage to get up to run without hacking up a lung. I’ve lost almost 10 days of training in the peak week. I won’t do anything stupid and force myself up run when rest and recovery is important.
It’s just that the sickness at this point frustrates me after having busted my heart out all winter. Almost like my marathon goals are always jinxed . I don’t know if it makes any sense but I want ONE race with the thrill of the start, the trusting my legs and heart, and to experience the ecstasy or agony of meeting my goal or not. The outcome isn’t what I value – it’s the journey to that outcome that I’m preparing myself for.