My five mile run today was fantastic. I kept everything together for the entirety. My pace was brisk, my form was sustained, my focus was There. When I came off the four and a half mile loop, I wasn’t tired. I ran the fastest sprint I’ve done in years to finish hard. We ran the whole thing in sixty six minutes, thirteen minute miles. Not blazing, but incredibly respectable for me.
I felt like the athletes in the Gatorade commercials. Soaked in sweat, in the zone. Throughout still standing, a machine. I showered and had a lie down in front of the fan to cool off. Then I did something more like blacking out than napping. Next thing I knew, J was about to make dinner. But, your shower, I said. He’d already been. I had no idea.
When I went down, I was hot, but otherwise feeling pleasant. When I got up–sick to my stomach, an ache like a toothache in my entire body. I went out to wash some dishes for supper and thought I was going to faint. I had some sugar and some peanuts and felt relief. It lasted about two minutes.
I think it’s part of my illness rearing its ugly head. My stomach is cramping clear into my back and I feel weak, so weak I can’t sit up straight. Why can’t I be allowed to enjoy my moment of glory?! I’d curse but I haven’t the energy for it.
Part of the good going was the overcast sky. No sun to sap me of my will to live. Unfortunately, we timed our run slightly later than usual and met the biting flies who hunger at the beginning and end of the day. There doesn’t seem to be a good time to beat both them and the devilish rays unless we run in the dead of night. Which, I’ve done before, but J would probably not agree to do.
I need a man whose sole purpose is to rub my aching body whenever I call.