How did I manage to get sick in the summer?
I’ve been outside either running, biking, or walking almost every day. I thought that increased muscle tone formed a protective barrier around your cells, rendering them immune to infection. Obviously, my knowledge of human biology leaves much to be desired.
I have a tendency to either be laser focused on one or two things and let everything else go at the same time. So that laser focus has lately been on exercise, and I guess I either don’t know what I’m doing (altogether possible), or I just used the wrong grocery cart at Albertson’s. And then wiped my hands all over my face.
Anyway, on Wednesday I finally made it 7 miles, and this after being chased down by a large, angry poodle (don’t laugh). My goal is to run the flat half next year in July, so I was feeling really good about being over the halfway point a year in advance. I went home and congratulated myself on my incredible athletic prowess (don’t ask me what my average mile time was, but it was faster than walking, which totally counts). Next day I went for a slightly painful bike ride, and by Friday I was ready to repeat the incredible athletic exploits of Wednesday.
I made it a mile.
I have to admit, this was slightly less than what I was aiming for. I probably could’ve gone further if someone wasn’t following me, stabbing me repeatedly in the calf muscles. Well, at least that’s what it felt like. So I quit the run and walked to my brother’s house – so I could at least get some kind of exercise in.
And that night, some gastrointestinal pyrotechnics set in that I won’t go into in great detail. Yesterday was ache-tabulous, and today I woke up feeling like I had swallowed some gravel. Ah, well. I’m either overtired, sick, or some fabulous combination of both.
I know this is shaping up to be one glorious whine, but in the midst of all this I’ve been kind of marveling at what a hideous contradiction the human body is: it’s amazingly frail and incredibly strong at the exact same time.
My body for the last few days has been frustratingly weak, but on Wednesday, I began that 7 mile run uphill, and in the midst of it ran up a hill that I sometimes struggle with on my bike in granny gear. I’m a wimp. Seriously, I am not a hardcore athlete by any stretch of the imagination. I hate being uncomfortable, winded, in pain, tired; I mean, I even hate hangnails. Yet somehow, I did that. When the human body gets going and gets in a zone, it sort of becomes a machine, and a very powerful one at that.
Ben and I have been watching The Tour de France, and I can’t believe how these men power up hills for miles, and maintaining a high speed at the same time. You can see the pain on their faces as they grit their teeth, but their legs just keep going.
I’m watching the Women’s World Cup Final right now, and as I watch these women, I’m ashamed that I’ve pooh-poohed sports for so long. In my mind, sports were uninteresting, played by uninteresting people and watched by similarly uninteresting people.
As with so many things in my adult life, I’m finding that I was wrong.
Anyhow, we’re down to the last few minutes in the game. Time to go watch the shootout. Here’s hoping! (pun intended)