Last night saw an active attempt to remove the cold from my system. I even sat in front of the tv at one stage doing nothing in an attempt to fight it off. The comment “You must be ill” was made this morning when I made a lemon and honey drink instead of my usual first coffee and I don’t know if it was this, the good sleep, the extra pint of water (I’ve made a conscious effort to over-hydrate, wondering if that might help) when I rarely drink just water or simply the fact that it’s now over 5 days old that made me feel slightly more human.
Not much, mind, but enough to let me stand in the garage and finish the second window frame without thinking I was going to fall over.
The odd bit is that, despite my mileage being higher than usual, my legs aren’t really dead yet. Sore, yes. Aching, yes. Shins feeling tighter than a tight thing, accepted. But not ruined and about to break. I don’t think.
However. I think the comment “Don’t come back. Ever.” when you’re about to head out of the door is a bit much, to be fair. Bearing in mind my route was 0.5 miles footpath and 5.6 miles country lane, I think it a touch harsh. Images of being run over by a lorry, followed by a tractor to make sure of death, followed by the tractor towing a malfunctioning topper, followed by being pecked by inevitable seagulls, followed by my Garmin being stolen for scrap so no identifiable trace of me exists sprang to mind. And all of those out on the furthest, least used lane, just so no-one would bother about the blood for a few days.
I was in two minds whether to stay indoors.
Well, actually I wasn’t. But still.
The jog was averagely acceptable. A steady first mile, a tricky second, a nice rhythm for the third, a pause to let a car go by in the third allowing me to check that my breathing was slow and clearish and my legs weren’t about to drop off, a boring fourth (dull straight-ish road without even a cow to amuse me this run) before realising that my pace was a bit faster than yesterday without trying any harder.
Must be on the mend.
Fingers crossed I’ll revive a sense of humour tomorrow. Still looking good to improve on last year though. At least as far as running mileage is concerned. With 25 days to go, I’ll certainly not count a chicken yet, but with the first cold on the way out I’m hoping for an easier few outings coming up. If I can continue to log 6 per day, I’ll be delighted. Nay amazed. Nay astounded.
Ah, you get the idea.