Friday, February 6, 2015

When You Cannot Run, Part 2

Although I ran cross country in high school, I did not run it well. I was always the slowest girl on the team be it because of inadequate cortisol coverage or my extreme grass allergy. I am proud to state that I finished every race.

As years passed, I learned how to better manage my Adrenal Insufficiency so that I could run more successfully. I won 3rd place in my age group for a five mile race. I shaved 43 minutes off of my half marathon PR. I was getting fast. I was getting good. And I was loving every minute of it.

Then the Nightmare happened.

In the aftermath, I was told I could not run.

Then, I became scared to run.

I was scared to acknowledge how much my 2013 crisis had stolen from me. I was scared to admit that I had finally started to taste my dream and I might never taste it again. I was scared to concede that my recovery from my near death experience would take much longer than I wanted.

As the Nightmare continues to fade, I continue to regain my strength. My passion to run has been reignited. In December, I completed the last leg of the Dallas Marathon. I cried as I sprinted across that finish line. It represented a new beginning. I was returning to the sport I loved.

The very end of my 5.7 mile leg of the marathon in December.
I just happened to claim the leg with the torrential Texas downpour.
Shortly after our December race, my husband and I planned out our racing season. Hot Cake Hustle 5K in January. Hot Chocolate 15K in February. Rock N Roll Relay in March. And Plano Balloon Festival Half Marathon in September. We have a plan! We have our races! And I am finally well enough to get back into the sport I love!

Yet the Hot Chocolate 15K is tomorrow, and I am sitting it out.

Last Friday, I suddenly came down with a 101.3 deg fever. Triple dose of steroids and lots of fluids allowed the fever to break in under 24 hours. However it marked the start of a "flu like virus" according to my doctor. This past week I have been wheezing and coughing non-stop. The past two days, I've had no voice.

I cannot express in words the frustration I have with my body right now. I'm not supposed to be sick. I'm supposed to be preparing for tomorrows race. The Hot Chocolate is one of my favorite races and I was very much looking forward to showing the course to my husband. This also marked the first year of finishers medals!

Want. So badly want.
I could show up to the race tomorrow. I have the bib. I could complete the race tomorrow. I'm stubborn enough to make it across that finish line. But I know that the risk is not worth the reward.

We have our bibs. We have our sweatshirts.
We have our Olive Thief standing guard.
Instead, I'll send my husband out to meet up with our friend. I expect both of them to return with awesome finisher medals, photos, and stories. I would be lying to y'all if I said it doesn't pain me to sit this race out. But I am going to choose to not dwell on that. Instead, I shall be excited that my husband can run the race. I will celebrate that he is healthy.

And I will actively chose to focus my energy on our next goal.