Written sometime during the week of snot…I think.
It’s a strange day. A semi mad day.
It’s been a jumble of thoughts and emotions, most not positive. At one point I actually told all my FB friends that I hated everyone. Because at that point I did.
I hated the happy faces, fake or not. I hated the healthy runners. I hated the beautiful people. I hated anyone who was having fun.
Hated them all.
I woke up with a headache even with the long sleep in. That happens when you’ve been sick for several days and taking care of a sick child at the same time. If it were not for the assistance of my lovely hubby, I would have gone even madder.
I’ve been dancing with this cold all winter season. Every now and then it would smack me with a sniffle. But I would thwack it back the next day using a green smoothie and a run around the park.
It worked for a couple of months, even when moments when my snot turned green and I should’ve been on antibiotics. Finally, however, it caught up with me and knocked me down for a couple of days. Knocked me and my daughter down. The bastard.
I have been sick before. But what frustrated me more this time is the compounding events that came before the virus. The cold was really just the freakin’ last straw.
You see, I’m trying to get back on the saddle after letting things go healthwise for a couple of months now. I’ve started running, which miraculously, I found liberating. The Couch to 5K app was a good start and I actually looked forward to the mornings. I’ve memorised the visitors at the local park – from the old man with the old dog, to the old Chinese couple doing Taichi, and the worker who has his coffee and scone before taking his shoes off to stroll around the oval.
Then there’s the resolve to quit sugar (fructose to be exact). I have finished three weeks of it and beginning week four. It hasn’t been all clean. I was good for the first two weeks, even with the occasional headaches. Then the third week saw me crawling in bed snotty and succumbing to the freaking trifle my friend made (the ironic part is that she didn’t even have any because guess what, she’s off sugar too!).
So now I’m on week four, which is much easier to continue than I initially expected. The problem is that by now, I’ve been out of commission for almost a week. I stopped running because my feet hurt. My physio said I needed orthotics…badly. No running for a while until I have the feet support I need.
The weird thing is (and this is probably just a coincidence) that the day I stopped running, the cold caught up with me.
It’s been almost a week but it feels much longer. I feel ick because I haven’t exercised and I haven’t slept much. I’m looking after my little one with on and off fever, which means alert nights for me.
I just baked scones at eleven o’clock at night…in my pyjamas. Why? Because I thought it was a good idea at the time.
It’s been a strange week.
There were some highlights to it though. For one, date night happened. I was high on antibiotics (and didn’t have any alcohol because I’m cutting off my intake) so I had enough energy to go to the city and watch Guardians of the Galaxy at the Gold Cinema with hubby.
It was wonderful — marred only by the occasional paranoia of terrorists in the city (seriously, I’ve never experienced a ‘high alert’ status in my 11 years in this country, it is a bit freaky).
I have it good. I know I have it good. I know she’s going to get better. I know I’m going to get better. I know I’m going to get back to my health routine. I know I’ll perk up again.
But sometimes, you know, you just have to hate everybody…and bake scones at 11pm.