i am sick. i have spent the day comatose on the couch - vascillating between freezing and burning up, wondering how many sweaters and hats i can pile on to how fast can i get all these layers off. i go from thinking: i feel good. i can get totally get up and be a productive member of society, maybe fold that small-child-high pile of laundry in my dining room; only to find myself wandering aimlessly around the house in a dizzy daze collapsing back on the couch 30 minutes later. i've gone through an entire roll of toilet paper blowing my nose. i've been in my pj's all day. i've learned that while we are at work our tv is set to record episodes of how its made all day long. i've snorted and gargled saltwater, my nostrils have become intimate with the zicam, and if it didn't knock me out so fast, i could sing the praises of nighttime thera-flu from the rooftops. but still. i feel like crap.
this just very literally adds insult to injury. i had high hopes for another run today. my high hopes should really just take a vacation. they keep getting disappointed. they are getting sick of the crapshoot that is: will this be a good run or not so much? i swear that if i could somehow get all zen about this and embrace whatever the hell i'm supposed to be learning right now, it would all be better.
which brings me to a little confession that i can't help but wonder if it had a hand in what got me here the first place; this injured, sick, sad running-pathetically-little-mileage-every-week place: in the month that has passed since the marathon, i have fallen off the wagon. in every big bad way. and then, if that wasn't bad enough - i think the wagon ran over me. a couple of times. i was floored by how quickly (we're talking lightning speed) food lost all importance once i wasn't "in training". i fell off the wagon overnight people. overnight. a mere four days after the marathon i ate an entire bag of conversation hearts. (and as a small aside, these are the best candies in the world next to gumdrops. really - a close tie). and then there was the hershey bar in the checkout lane at the market. and there was um, an entireboxofgirlscoutcookies. not all in one sitting mind you; although that shit could totally happen. the box of samoa love lasted about a day and a half. and then there was this very low moment: iatesomegumdrops. they were yucky. but i ate them anyway. during my nutritional overhaul and my first stint in sugar rehab, jen would tell me: there is room in our lives for sugar. which made me happy. it held the sweet promise that one day me & the sugar could be friends again. well. me & the sugar? we are not friends. i think i need to check myself into sugar rehab again. thank god that box of cookies is gone cause i dont know who can check themselves into sugar rehab with those things in the house. i'd have to have an ambulance come get me, strap me to a gurney and haul me away from those things.
but right now, i am freezing and at the same time burning up. i am in the same clothes i was in 24 hours ago. the small-child-high pile of laundry remains intact and untouched. i need to make myself a bowl of edamame and get back on that couch. maybe the tivo got some how its made episodes of 'running sneakers', 'marathon medals' and 'mylar blankets'. i would totally try and stay lucid for that. once upon a time i ran a marathon. three, in fact. oh. good times people. those were good times. this is me - falling apart. only a pain free longer-than-four-mile run and some greens can save me.