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.
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*
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).
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.