blasted bronchitis

A trip to the local GP this morning confirmed what I already suspected: the little cold from a fortnight ago has developed into bronchitis.

Leaving aside the sleepless nights spent hacking up my lungs, I also have the Gold Coast Marathon to run this Sunday and I had my eyes fixed on a fast-ish time.

Sigh.

I’ll give you a tip: if it turns out this bloody bronchitis means the months of training were wasted, give me a wide berth for a few days. I will not be a happy boy.

Anyway, I told the doc to hit me with his most potent drugs, and I must have looked fairly frazzled. He obliged and I’m now full up to pussy’s bow with various types of antibiotic. Cross your fingers, that will hopefully do the trick.

The question is: is the coughing going to stop enough by Sunday to let me finish the marathon? Am I going to be able to run sub 3 hours? Am I going to be able to do that without having a heart attack?

Question, questions.

Running
On doctor’s orders (no kidding) I took a nice easy 9km run this lunchtime. It didn’t feel too bad at the time, but I was a bit short of breath afterwards.

not a post about Michael Jackson

It’s sad when anyone dies, particularly before their time. Michael Jackson’s death was sad, as was much of his life, as I see it, but it kinda leaves me cold.

I could see he was something of a dancer, and a very talented musician, very young, but when it comes down to it I just don’t like his music. I never have, never will. Even “Billie Jean” which everyone seems to love, just strikes me as a bit tinny.

Anyway, it’s also sad about Farrah Fawcett, Victoria’s third swine-flu victim and all the thousands of people who die every day in the third world.

Grumpy
I’m slightly grumpy today, as you may have guessed. The damn cold I had ages ago is still going, and has now ensconced itself in my lungs. I don’t want to make it worse, so I haven’t run since Monday. Given the marathon is Sunday week, I’m getting concerned.

I know I’m supposed to taper, but this is ridiculous.

I know I shouldn’t make too much of this, but I’m secretly seething. Outside I am my normal debonair self, but inside I’m raving like a foul-mouthed Tasmanian devil.

in the wars

I’ve been a bit in the wars lately, which is why there’s been precious little blogging this week. It really did stop my blogging. No, really.

I have a feeling it’s my body’s perverse way of rebelling against 2 weeks of around 120km worth of running.

The first problem was a really nasty case of chaffing. It affected my nipples, though curiously only the right one. That was only a side affect, compared to the main area of chaffing, which was actually red raw and bleeding. I’ll spare you the details, aside from saying I had a pronouced bow-legged walk for a few days there.

Incidentally, do you remember this really stupid, and offensive, old joke? Q: Why do Gypsy’s have bowed legs? A: Because they have crystal balls.

Silly eh?

Anyway, the second problem that on Monday I managed to pick up a dose of something that wasn’t quite the swine flu.

Then I had a problem with my finger-nail, which got ripped off, and then infected. That wasn’t quite painful enough, so I did it again on another finger.

Then, I managed to burn my thumb on an oven tray while cooking cupcakes. (That’s a first – a cupcake-related injury).

And on Thursday I slammed my index finger in the car door. That finger is a nice shade of blue.

At that point I had 3 fingers and a thumb out of action, two of which were prime typing fingers. So, no blogging.

I think that’s it.

Some of this, I grant you, could be put down to stupidity on my part, but I do think it had something to do with my body being quite literally run down.

Running
No running from Monday to Wednesday, due mainly to the cold/flu but not helped by the chaffing. Last night I ventured out for a speculative 12.5km around the streets near my place. Today I had a more interesting 17.5km starting and finishing at my office. It didn’t feel terribly good at the time, but turned out to be done at a reasonable pace.

giving me the s***s

I suppose I had it coming… I spent much of last week making jokes about swine flu. Thankfully I didn’t get the pig flu itself – although that would have been something to tell the grandkids – but I did get a nasty dose of whatever my little baby girl has.

I awoke on Saturday feeling mighty queasy. MIGHTY queasy and uncomfortable downstairs. I thought it best to pull out of the Sandwon 10km and just do a little 8km run around the streets near my place.

Sunday was worse. I won’t describe in detail, as you might feel like eating at some point today. No running done at all yesterday, other than to the bathroom.

This was all very annoying, and not just for the obvious reasons. I was all set to record a record training month this month. I made it to 400km with the Saturday run, just short of my PB – 403km, and I was set for over 430km taking into account the long run on Sunday.

Sadly, I pulled up short.

Bugger.

I’ve quarantined myself from work today, as I don’t imagine anyone there would appreciate picking up my bug. Instead, I’m working from home.

I am feeling better than yesterday, so I’m considering doing a long run later this afternoon.

vomit

I had something of a first today – a vomit during a long run. It wasn’t something I was keen to do, and I’d be perfectly happy if it never happened again.

I’ve vomitted while riding a bike, which was entertaining. From memory, I managed to get most of it on the road, and none stuck in the gears, which was good.

This run was over a familiar course – from home to Lilydale then down to Montrose and then back home. About half way through I stopped at Lilydale Lake for a sip of water and then kept going. Within 5 minutes my stomach was heaving, my head was light and I was sitting down dry – and not so dry – heaving.

The worst thing was that I was minimum 15km from home.

I was tempted at various times to take a short cut to the nearest train station or find a public phone to call for help. Thankfully, neither were particularly plentiful around Montrose.

I made it home in the end, but not in great speed. The whole trip was 33.5km at an average of slightly over 5 minute ks. That included the time spent technicolour yawning. Here it is on mapmyrun.com.

It wasn’t my finest running hour. That being said, it was a good test of mental and physical toughness. I’m just glad I finished.

Food
My pasta maker got a second workout last night. This time we made ravioli with a stuffing of ricotta, lemon zest, thyme and spinach. It took a while to make and the quality control was a bit iffy. They didn’t look all nice and even like the ones you buy in the shops. But they tasted fantastic.

The carb loading didn’t seem to do much good this morning. Perhaps all the ricotta didn’t help. I must say, it didn’t taste so good the second time.

april fool

It’s not actually April yet, despite what Em would have you believe.

But it IS more than 10 days since last I wrote.

If you know me at all well, you’ll know I never go that long without posting unless I’m in a major grump. Well…. I’ve been in a major grump.

To be precise, I’ve been sick. The world’s worst man-flu, that laid me pretty much horizontal for 5 days. 5 days spent watching the world’s largest collection of James Bond DVDs and calling feebly for Panadol and chicken soup.

That finished last Thursday, but it wasn’t until Sunday that I felt well enough to run. Even then, I probably shouldn’t have.

Today I had a more decent 12.5km run and tomorrow there’ll be another.

It’s all been terribly depressing. I now feel weak and unfit, like I’ve lost all the work I did up to now and am starting marathon training from scratch.

I did consider, in a fit of pique, pulling out of Gold Coast altogether. I’d also consider bailing on the Run for the Kids, except I want to try out the new Racer shoes.

Ahh well, it will pass. It hasn’t killed me, so I guess I must be stronger.

can’t say anything nice

Apologies for the gaping hole of silence in the last week or so. I’ve been sick, yet again, and operating on the “can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” principle.

hail catherine

Good old Catherine Deveny knows just what to say. Here she is today on Sam Newman, the Footy show and the Logies:

The guys who sit by rolling their eyes saying “Oh Sam!” are just as bad. The show should be called “Pigs in Suits”.

Has Kate Ritchie broken new ground in creative endeavour, challenged outmoded cultural stereotypes or questioned the human condition? Is she brave? Is she smart? Is she funny? No, she’s been on Home and Away for 20 years. And she’s pretty. What a good girl.

Which reminds me: I must tell you one time about the year I was at the Logies.

Hail
Those of you who come from cool climates will no doubt think me something of a naif, or possibly a rube if you prefer, but I did get a touch excited to see my backyard under hail recently. It was almost like snow!

Sick
I’m feeling a touch better, thanks for all your kind comments. My voice is coming back slowly. Yesterday I sounded like Tom Waits after a particularly intense bender, today it’s more like early-60s Bob Dylan. I can sing a mean “Ballad of Hollis Brown”.

Jaykay – I didn’t take my lurgy in to work – I kept it at home with my two young kids and wife. Nice eh?

I desperately, desparately, DESPERATELY, DESPERATELY!!!!!!! want to run, but I probably should wait until I can keep down food.