Down and Out in the CB

I prop my weary bones up to the computer to type this entry. I exeggerate some, but not too much. Thursday morning I was diagnosed at the local medical center on the island with Type-A flu. The worst strain, according to the professionals. Rest, plenty of fluids, rest, rest, and more rest, two anti-virals twice a day, and in about a week I should feel ok again. Until then....

As a runner this can be like getting a death sentence. And quite humbling. Its not the physical aspects of sickness or injury that bother a runner so much as it is the mental aspects of having to put it in park for the time being. For we runners are hard wired to get our fix most days, in fact it has been documented that we actually become addicted physiologically to the activity. Right now though I do not feel like I could walk down to the beach without having to stop and rest several times en route. I am reminded of a quotation in the liner notes of Jane's Addiction's album Ritual de lo Habitual: "Sometimes in order to realize you were well, someone or something has to come along and hurt you." To go from running eight miles with the apparent ease of the breeze one day, to feeling aches in muscles I didn't know I had the next, can beget humility even in the intermittently over-fed ego like mine.

Today I laid around on my bed and looked out at the sunny warm day unfolding tantalizingly out of reach for me. And I thought about how nice it would be to lace up a pair of beat up sneakers and jog a short mile or two. No, not thoughts about 400 meter repeats, 10 % long run rules, hill training, age group awards; just a little run outside, spending just a little time doing something that I love to do.

So for now I will bide my time and follow the good doctor's orders, though i'll be a chomping at the bit in a few days to get back out there. Hopefully when I do, i'll take a little bit of this lesson with me onto the open road. For each day, like each run, is truly a blessing. Perhaps I was losing sight of this a bit...