anatomy of: the black death.

  i'd been averaging 35 mile weeks until just this one.  which is awesome, but it looks as if i am going to miss another big race i've registered for due to schedule conflicts.  perhaps two.  sideglance.  which is frustrating when you're trained and ready to clean up.  we won't get into that.  sometimes you just have to pick a big race, buy the plane ticket, and announce to the entire world that this is what is happening that given morning.  and then of course hope for the best.  i purchased the insurance on the last marathon i did, which turned out to be useful..

  this morning was one of those disney princess mornings when i awake to birds chirping and swirling around the trees beside my house-  the sun is beaming straight through my bedroom window, and it's a bluebird day with nary a cloud in the sky.  i spring from my pillows, as i do...  execute a cute little well timed yawn, refreshingly stretch my arms...  not so fast, gigi d.  apparently you have a flu.  or a stomach virus.  or a head cold.  or the bubonic plague.  i ran straight into the bathroom and vomited.  too vivid a description?  i'm a runner.  we say these sorts of things.  don't believe me?  just ask a runner.  the truth is.  life is not always a flawless, perfectly attractive thing every single day.  if this offends, you, i extend to you a polite invitation to stop reading this- cause it only gets worse.




   the rest of my day was spent trying to escape the pain by sleeping.  but even then i couldn't decide whether i was too hot.  or too cold.  or about to vomit again.  or if i wanted to lay in the bottom of the shower and cover myself with soap and let it all rinse off.  or then station myself on the bathroom floor because it is in close proximity to the toilet.  and also cool.  but i should have a blanket on hand in case it is too cool.  so i did all of these things.  when you're dying, you must understand how low dignity really is to comfort on the list of priorities. 

  i prefer to not even refer to illness inspired respites as sick days, as i have my own definition of what they are.   but also,  i am familiar with the widely accepted term "sick day" if in the academic sense only.   a sick day is when one makes an excuse to bask about and do nothing all day in an effort slightly larger than it would have taken to just get their ass to school or work.  i actually never did this my own self, as i knew i couldn't go out and play later, and daytime TV scared the shit out of me.    my personal definition of a sick day is when i realize i am functioning below the weather- i've suffered a minor cold or inconvenient headache or god forbid my period.  i take more than the recommended dosage of dayquil, power on, and forget all about it.  that's a sick day.

  a dead day, on the other hand is when i've discovered i am so incapacitated and so embarrassed by my compromised state that i have no other option than to sleep through my agony.  and then- but only once i feel up for it, or strong enough, i can enter phase 2:  feeling very, very sorry for myself.   it is usually in phase 2 that i attempt any form of communication at all.   in the throes of the black death, i am not so apt to admit to any sort of vulnerability or delicacy in my person.  it goes against my ideals to entertain perhaps that i am anything but solid, tenacious, and completely indomitable.   that is private, sacred "leave me alone to die" time.   and one fact remains:  i'd rather be running.

  thank god for friends, however because without them, i may be found starved and without large quantities of coconut water.  it is now, when i am too ailing to argue-  that they decide to impart their timeless wisdom and personal advice about how i work too hard, run too far, don't drink enough water, don't look both ways before crossing the street, and make impractical decisions regarding my financial and romantic lives.  this happens because they know i am not likely to run away during this time.  and that also, everybody knows better than to disrespect the person literally hand spooning you chicken noodle soup.   i call this the "i have you right where i want you" position.   i'd rather avoid this.

  i kept the black death to myself today.  i drank my tea.  nibbled my toast.  i even received a lime shake, peach tea, and a coconut water from an amazing friend who was not so eager to supply a lecture.  hopefully tomorrow,  i'll be the intrepid runner of the morning mist.  i prefer foggy days to sunny ones anyhow.  better sleeping weather.  better running weather.