Those calendars days stare at me. They lay there bare naked, no checkmark. They mock me. Damn it.
I started off so well. I was bionic and I crossed off each day in victory — overcoming the lazy I-don’t-want-to-workout early stages of training. The calendar marked my awesome daily athletic progress with large checkmarks. I got an enormous sense of satisfaction marking those days off. But now … now I’m just a regular body filled up with DayQuil, NyQuil, Ricola Cough Drops, and empty calendar days.
The flu is a bastard.
Sleeping about three to four hours a night for the past few days kicked my ass. My enthusiasm for triathlon training went down hill. The sad thing is I didn’t even have the flu this week. It was my kids. That children’s Advil and Tylenol work their magic for about four hours and then it’s over. The crying, the bad moods, the coughing, the congestion, and the mucus set off the night shift alarm, and I’m the supervisor.
However now, not only am I the supervisor, but I’m also a patient. So, I’m all about the over-the-counter medicine traveling through my body. Vicks Vapor Rub, bring it on. Tea with honey and lemon to comfort my body, yes. Thai shrimp soup, spicy to sweat it out, most definitely. I’m trying all methods to make this 37-year old Guat body recover as soon as possible so that I can return to my exercise mode. When training for a triathlon, you need every day, well at least I do. I’m 37.
I look like crap and feel pretty much the way I look. No mineral makeup to cover up this mess. The flu is in my blood and seeing the three calendar days without check marks burns me out. Stupid virus.
Why? Why is it that whenever you decide to get all jazzed up about an event or adventure there is always something that gets in the way? The flu. No babysitter. Sprained ankle. A flat tire. Your period.
All these little impediments momentarily stopping you from succeeding. Don’t they — the Powers That Be, The Universe — know that the race itself contains plenty of obstacles that challenge your body. You don’t need any extra rings of fire. You don’t need anymore downers.
You really don’t.
But nevertheless it happens and you just have to lace up the shoes and move on. There’s nothing that can be done about those three check-less days. There’s nothing that can be done about the 72 hours I lost. They’re gone. I can’t look at the calendar without wincing. But at least September is coming up and I don’t have to look at the month of August. It mocks me.
But September is a new page on the calendar, and all I see is checkmarks in my future. With the help of DayQuil, NyQuil, and Ricola I see a lot of checkmarks.
Giddy up!
Related articles
- One step at a time. One pedal at a time. One splash at a time. (thewishfactor.wordpress.com)
Hope you’re feeling, and looking a lot better by now, TG. 🙂
I think you just have to remember that everyone’s in the same boat. Everyone in that triathalon you’re training for has to first get the head in gear, deal with the flu, body cycles (yeah, even men), what have you. No excuses. JUST DO IT! (Ok, I ocassionally do get carried away.) And if you’re still fighting the flu, warmed whiskey and honey. As needed. You won’t mind the kids’ moaning and complaining after one or two of those.
Dude. Warm whiskey ey? I’m on it! I’m hoping I’ll have only two more days of this flu thing because I have to get back on the wagon. Maybe the whiskey and honey will work. 🙂
Oops. I goofed. I wanted to invite you to my new address but forgot. Same Quotography as befoe but interspersed with fiction and memoirs from time to time. I’m now at http://photovignettes.wordpress.com. Hope you get to stop by.
Thanks for the invite 🙂 Will check it out.
it sounds like you drew the short straw, you got run down and you now you’re sick — or maybe you got super unlucky and caught it from the cashier at the supermarket? However you got it, it sounds like you’re taking care of yourself, but don’t push yourself too hard. You don’t want to relapse or find yourself playing ping pong with this monster in your household.
I’m definitely resting up. I’ve done that before — relapsing — and it does suck. Mucho.