The shit

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August 12, 2013 by Amy B

Note to future self: Stop eating shit on Sunday and justifying it by the fact that you ran for many hours in a row the day before.

I’m not sure if that was the reason I was up all night with nausea and weird as fuck dreams, one involving a snake (probably because I just read that story about the two kids in Canada who were killed by the boa that fell through the ceiling tiles in their apartment).

Sunday was a mostly relaxing day.

Church in the morning (we were on coffee/cookie duty so we baked in the morning and had an enjoyable time socializing).

Afternoon we went out to a friend’s place (on the canal) and sat around, ate, drank, and celebrated a birthday.

Even though I was feeling great for most of Saturday following my long run, I was really feeling wrecked yesterday. I even had to sneak away from the party to lie down, just for a few minutes. If I’d have been able to nap the entire afternoon, I would have done so in a heartbeat.

Oiselle + Beer + J.Crew = winning

Out on the dock, eating a pork taco and having a moment of peace

When we got home that night I was waxed. Scott left to go pick up a piece of furniture from our friends who are moving today and I got the kids in bed. From about 11pm onward, I thought I was going to hurl. For the record, I’m not a puker. Never really have been, but I felt like my stomach was going to propel itself out of my body at a moment’s notice. It made for a really restful night of sleep.

Things I think about while lying in bed while sick:

Did I get bit by a tick? Do tick bites make you feel sick to your stomach? OMG, do I have a tick on me?

Maybe it was the venison sausage I ate this morning at church?

Maybe I’m going to die? Is my life insurance policy up to date?

I lived through the night (obvs) and my alarm went off at 5:00. I laid in bed for awhile, trying to decide if I felt well enough to run. My stomach was feeling a little better but I could tell I wasn’t 100%. I considered running later but knew it wouldn’t happen. I decided to get up and give it a shot; maybe it would make me feel better.

As I started out down the street, my legs felt like they were filled with lead. The bouncing up and down was making my stomach feel worse. I stopped after a minute and just stood in the street, contemplating if I should bag it and go home. I decided to give it a few more minutes and see how I felt.

I didn’t feel better, but I didn’t feel worse. I trod on. And when I say trod, I mean at an 11:00 min/mile pace.

This was slower than my pace on the day I ran 17 goddamn miles. What the?

I almost cut it short by a mile and a half but at this point, I knew I’d probably feel worse about myself if I gave up than if I just stuck it out and suffered through it. So I did suffer. And ended up with one of the slowest runs I’ve had in a long time.

I don’t know if it was the right thing to gut it out or not. I’m glad I didn’t quit, but it didn’t help my stomach cause at all. I even had to cancel my chiro appointment this morning because I couldn’t get out of the house (fill in your own blanks).

I’m just going to chalk it up to one of those runs I typically have at least once a season. The one where you think, oh my god, nothing feels right, like my body forgot how to run. I also have swollen glands on the left side of my throat so am I getting sick? God, let’s hope not.

I fired up the juicer and made this lovely green juice – kale, celery, cuc, lemon, ginger, apple. It’s either going to make me feel better or make everything ten times worse.

Let’s hope for the former and not the latter.