Down With the Sickness 2: The Return of Dino Bug

Posted: October 11, 2013 in Injuries and Owies
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Sometimes training is like gambling.  You have to know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em; know when to walk away and know when to run.  Or that’s what some grey beard with gravy stains in his Rhinestone pants would have me believe anyway.  Today I had just such a mental dilemma with in the pool; should I stay or should I go?

You see, both my girls are currently down with the sickness.  There has been this Dino bug going around lately to which both that Kelly and HRH have unfortunately succumb.  Me?  I keep on keeping on.  I’m a big tough triathlete, right?  I just take my morning Vitamin C, continue to add cumin to my morning omelets, and suck back as much OJ as one can reasonably tolerate and as such, and stick to the training plan, or what little plan I have managed to cobble together anyway.  I have daily runs drills to do, core building to maintain, hydration lab testing to endure (more to come), a new Masters spin class I just started weekly and, holy shitballs, I have a lot going on so I need to keep going.  Even though I might experience the odd tickle in the back of my throat, perhaps a little cough here and there, or a sniff every now and again, I just keep plowing forward.  But today it became painfully aware that I am, in fact, also down with the sickness.  Frig!  I guess, like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun.

So what started out as a planned 2.75k workout from my ‘Swim Speed’ program, eventually turned into the ‘Total Aquatic Shit Show’ not 30 seconds after entering the water as my mental attitude went from ‘I feel great!’, to ‘Okay, this feels like work…’, to ‘Holy shit!  Where’s my pull buoy!”  All that in just the warm up; yeah, definitely NOT winning!

I definitely wasn’t feeling the jazz, or the funk, or the cheddar, or the vibe, or whatever colorful metaphor you wish to substitute for your motivation to train.  Even the old ladies were threatening to lap me.  So after 1.75k worth of easy drills, I pulled the plug completely and came home instead with my flippers between my legs.

It’s a hard thing to be able to listen to your body and simply say ‘No’ when it’s most appropriate to do so.  I have always struggled with this.  Seriously, when the breathing isn’t there, I have no cardio, and despite the lack luster pace I might be maintaining, my heart rate is soaring like a jack rabbit on crack, all signs are pointing to ‘Quit’, so what’s the point in continuing?  I’m still in the early phases of off-season base training so there is no real need to be hammering out the kilometers regardless of how I feel.  All that’s going to accomplish is make things worse and I’m fed up with going backwards.  Right now, my body seems to be telling me to relax, and enjoy the approaching holidays (as well as the subsequent turkey coma afterwards), so I think I will.  No apologies, no excuses, just lots of mucus’s (I’m a poet and don’t even know it).

Fortunately, tomorrow also makes for the perfect ‘Rest Day’ as the Ironman World Championships are on and I simply have to see how much publicity Gordon Ramsay manages to sponge up, so maybe tomorrow will also be declared as ‘strategic’ recovery day as well.  Then Sunday is Thanksgiving and Monday is still free and, shit, I already can see where this weekend will be a complete loss to at least two of the seven deadly sins; gluttony and sloth.  They do say ‘feed a cold, starve a flu’, right?  And I definitely have a cold.  So who am I to buck popular convention?

If that’s what the doctor ordered, then that’s what the doctor ordered.  I’m not going to argue this time.  I think I might just start to enjoy this whole ‘getting sick’ thing, well, for a few hours anyway.  But for the time being, I’m going to do the smart thing by tapping out and taking a wee break.  Of course, this will also inevitably mean spending an insane amount of time watching children’s television all cuddled up with the small drippy child person we live with but, hey, things could definitely be worse.


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