Just My Luck

So over the course of the past week and a half, I have decided that I likely am developing bronchitis.  Since that’s “What Going Around” according to Channel 13, I have decided to just self-diagnose and avoid the whole “going to the doctor to become healthy nonsense and just pretend that my body needs to train its immune system to not suck so much”.  Needless to say, my runs lately have sucked anus.  Not that my pace has significantly dropped, but I feel like my legs are filled with lead and that I may or may not be breathing through a bendy straw.  And that is totally neglecting my favorite part: spending the 15 minutes after my run coughing up lung junk and feeling like I am suffering from emphysema.  Thus the reason I have hypothesized that I either:

A) Have Bronchitis OR
B) Have a Troll living down there (hopefully one of the doll variety)

So I definitely was not looking forward to the troll rearing its ugly blue hair up into my throat for my long run today.  In order to get ready for the Glass City Half Marathon, I have been attempting to increase my long run to 8 miles by the end of this month.  Today, I settled on doing 7 miles.

I am not fooling anyone with my faux-running excitement or the quality of this bathroom pic

All was going well, I was feeling only semi-terrible and moving at the speed that cement dries, when I felt that I probably should make a pit stop slightly before the 5 mile mark.  I sprinted home, and as I was getting ready to head back out I discovered to my horror that the workers at my apartment complex were just then choosing to power wash my front door and siding along my windows.  Leaving me with no escape and stranded at 4.77 miles.  Waaaaaaa *crocodile tears*

Crap in all definitions of the word. I'm stuck in my apartment.

Can't you just move your stupid truck and stupid machines so I can finish out my 2.23 miles?

Not a monsoon. Not hot steam from my hot ass. Just power washing at an inopportune moment.

Finally after a break of about 20 minutes, I was able to squeeze out my front door and finish up my run.  What a difference a pit stop and 20 minutes of rest does for cement speed.  I may or may not have picked my pace up from an 8:29 (pre-power wash lamesauce) to a 8:05 territory (post-power wash lamesauce rage run).

7 miles finished at 8:20 pace. Already training for my anticipated race pace at Glass City!

So all in all, minus the coughing fit that I orchestrated to the sounds of the power washer and the whole 20 minute rest break of rage, it was a happy running day for Eli.  Happiness is the best medicine for bronchitis.  Or trolls.

Non-bronchitis Eli during happier times

Happy Running!

The Time My Scale Told Me Tyra Banks Should Be Calling

Let me first off start out by saying, I was loving my running streak.  I had made it to 11 days straight of running and my training runs were getting faster (pace-wise) and feeling more effortless.  To put it simply, I was channeling my inner Ryan Hall.

And then, the sickness commenced on Sunday morning. *cue dramatic theme music please*.  It started with the toilet.  It ended with the toilet.  And more than one thing was happening at once.  I had never felt so horrible.  Every joint in my body ached.  Even my toes.  My fever spiked to 101 on Sunday evening.  There was going to be no working Monday morning.

Monday I spent practicing working my body against gravity.  Standing and walking were considered my workouts.  My proudest moment was being able to lift the Crock-Pot up from a low cupboard.  The illness in all was somewhat similar to Swine Flu 2009.

I contemplate my next move in Life: To pick up a Life Tile or run to the bathroom

So needless to say, when I attempted to try running after only giving myself 3 days of “sick time” I should have expected that I would feel like death.  I managed a measly 2 miles today averaging an 8:13 pace.  I guess I should be proud I could even do that.

Since when I weighed myself this morning the scale told me that Tyra Banks should be calling anytime soon for my next Top Model audition.  I mean which one of the following is real model people?!

Modelling 101

Modelling for Sophia Tolli...Modelling 201

Needless to say, I was slightly shocked when the scale flashed: 129.  That is 8 pounds less than I usually weigh.  Apparently the contents of my stomach and lower GI now has an official weight.

Anyways, I now have a major uphill battle to gain my weight back (even though I’m not hungry), force my stomach to enjoy running again (which it told me hell no today), and get back my mileage and speed (current speed: turtle).  Go Me!

Happy Running!