DNF = Did Not Finish.
There’s a first time for everything, right?
Let’s go back in time to recap this week a bit…
Tuesday: Wake up brutally early to run seven miles before flying to L.A. for work. Embark on a 6+ hour flight aboard the always-pleasant JetBlue, and touch down in sunny and chilly Los Angeles around 11 AM. Time changes are a beautiful thing…sometimes. Spend the afternoon walking around Santa Monica. Crash in hotel bed with some room service by 10 PM. OK, by 9 PM. Maybe 8 PM. It’s hard to remember.
Wednesday: Wake up brutally early to squeeze in a 5-miler on the hotel treadmill. Sweat a ton. Spend entire day running around a photo shoot.
Feet begin to hurt. Crash in hotel bed by 10 PM. Again, maybe earlier.
Thursday: Another day of the “brutally early” wake-up, this time to bang out 7 speedy miles on the treadmill. Feel sad about not having time to run on the beach. Get over it. Spend entire day running around two more photo shoots.
Go out to dinner with coworker. Eat magical sushi in downtown L.A. Pack suitcase. Fall asleep in hotel bed after reading a whopping four pages of my book (Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling — hilarious).
Friday: 4 AM wake-up call to make it to the airport in time for a 7 AM departure. Don’t have time to buy breakfast. Don’t sleep on the plane. Don’t like being in a middle seat. Don’t like my broken TV. Don’t like the guy next to me thinking my foot space is a shared area. Land in NYC around 3:15 PM. Dislike time change now. Try not to puke in cab to Upper East Side. Try not to fall asleep immediately upon returning to my apartment. Have headache. See Brian. Cry happy tears because he showed up with flowers. Go to dinner. Headache tries to ruin my life. Asleep by midnight. Probably earlier.
And that brings us to today.
This week is a step-back week, or a small week, or a cutback week, or whatever you people call it. It’s a week where my long run isn’t quite as long. That probably means something scary is on the way next weekend (20 miles, Coach?!).
Normally 14 miles — a 2-mile warm-up, 10 miles at marathon goal pace (8:45–8:50) and a 2-mile cool-down — is hardly something to make me break a sweat. Easy, right? OK, not easy, but surely manageable, especially after last week’s delightful 18-miler.
I woke up this morning in a really nice pool of my own sweat. Hope you liked that, Brian.
I dragged myself to the bathroom to check my temperature, which clocked in at a sweet 100.6 degrees.
Not terrible, but definitely high enough to constitute a fever.
Brian immediately morphed into nurse mode and took excellent care of me: He slapped a cold washcloth on my forehead and went to Duane Reade to buy Tylenol, and also returned with a handful of chocolate chip-filled treats. I didn’t eat them at the time, but I appreciate the gesture.
I took the Tylenol and proceeded to sleep for two more hours.
I woke up around 10 feeling better. OR SO I THOUGHT.
So I’m all, “Hey Brian, I think I’m feeling OK, that fever was probably just from being run down after all that travel this week. I’m ready to run! My fever is gone!”
We did the requested 2-mile warm-up toward the park and I felt OK. Not great, but OK. Then, we hit up the extended Bridle Path (my least favorite route in all of NYC — Brian got to pick, and he loves it) and I attempted to speed up to my marathon goal pace.
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I held onto it for about a mile, and then realized that I couldn’t breathe very well (you know that feeling where you just can’t get a good deep breath because your chest hurts?) and that I felt oh-so-weak. I drank some water, hoping that would help, and tried to power through. My new goal was to get through the 14 miles and not be crazy about my pace. I thought I could finish the miles if I didn’t go too fast.
I had to walk up Cat Hill, and when I got to the top, I met the lovely Nina and her boyfriend. I was in rough shape, I tried to talk with them, and as soon as Nina told me she was training for her first marathon (Boston!), Nina suddenly appeared to have nine heads, and everything went black. I honestly don’t even know if I said bye to her, but I’m pretty sure my departure was less than graceful.
So sorry, Nina. It was lovely to meet you, and I’d like a re-do, please!
From there, I called it. I was done, and I’m OK with it. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have run at all today, but I thought the fever was a fluke. It’s not! Surprise! And it’s funny: I can stare down Crohn’s disease and the worst of its symptoms without blinking an eye, but slap me with a stuffy nose, dizzy brain or fever and I’m pathetic.
I made my way home after rocking out a sweet five miles, and stood in the shower all shaky and stuff for about 20 minutes. I felt scarily woozy in the shower, at which point my true beauty came out, as I proceeded to vomit wildly all over myself.
Sorry that my sexiness intimidates you, but I really can’t help it.
Now I’m back in bed, where I’ve been for the last three hours. I took more Tylenol, but my fever just rang in at 102 degrees. The upside is that I wasn’t this sick while I was in L.A. I felt great in L.A. I friggin’ loved L.A.
Long run, you win today. But I’ll be back. Just gotta kick this thing…and kick it hard.
I hope you’re having a great weekend, friends! Yay running! Yay rest!