I am sick on what’s supposed to be my peak weak for my spring marathon training. It happens every freaking time. On a week where I should run a bunch of miles and then cap it off with an 18-20 miler I end up running zero miles.
Unlike in past peak-week illnesses, this one hit me harrrrd. I spent a night hugging the toilet, and the next day too weak to remove myself from the couch. I was literally too weak to eat chicken noodle soup. Don’t worry, the dog slopped it up when I fell asleep.
I’m assured by other runner friends that it’s okay for me to do my final long run next weekend instead, two weeks out from the marathon. That’s all fine and dandy except that I was really, really looking forward to running a 13.1 for the joy of running a 13.1. It’s the same half marathon I run every year before the Wisconsin Marathon. It gives me a sense of where I’m at, and helps set a realistic expectation of the marathon.
The other part is with Ironman training (which starts sometime after marathon recovery in late May) I don’t get to joyfully run 13.1s as I please. It’s all must-swim/bike/run XXX miles!! Focus!! Serious!! Training!! Miles!!
Being sick isn’t fair, ever. It’s so frustrating. Aggggh, I want to throw myself onto the floor and have a temper tantrum, but I don’t really have the energy to do that. I’ll just suck it up, do my 5 miles before the half marathon next weekend, and enjoy the post race festivities.
I mean, really, the tantrums can wait until it’s time for a taper-tantrum, right?