Learning to listen to my body
Married couples typically share everything—a home, a bank account, a bed, a pizza (unless you're me and Clayton. Then you each get your own personal pizza because we'd rather get divorced than be forced to evenly divide cheese). You share everything. You share your entire lives. And you share germs.
Clayton caught a nasty cold last week and just as soon as he stopped sniffling, I started. After wrapping up a get-together with friends on Friday night, I escorted myself to bed because I wasn't feeling right (and gave Clayton the stink eye the whole way down the hall like "YOU DID THIS TO ME.")
It's Wednesday night and I'm just now able to taste food again and breathe out of my nose (Yes, I was a mouth breather for the majority of the past week and yes, that is the recommended method to get your husband to fall in love with you all over again.)
So what? People get colds all the time, right? It's true, they do. But most people know how to ease up and take care of themselves. I just kept going full-speed, refusing to believe that I could be sick over the weekend. After doing a butt load of yard work and errands, I forced myself to run on both Saturday and Sunday and ended up crying during both workouts. I wasn't sure if the excessive sweat was from my efforts or a fever. My throat was on fire and being a mouth breather who was RUNNING only compounded the problem. I felt weak. I hate feeling weak.
But I still laced up my sneakers on Sunday afternoon and thought, "I'll get in a long run. No problem!" 3 miles later? Tears. Walk breaks. More tears. Don't get me wrong, I finished the 5 miles I set out to do, but it took forever and at what cost? I'm halfway convinced that I probably would have healed faster if I gave my body the days it needed to rest.
I consider myself an intelligent person, but I am not smart about listening to my body. Does any other runner struggle with this? Unless I'm bleeding from the face, I'll always try to run (and even then, I'd likely be like, "I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. Tis' but a scratch!"). Heck, when I got my tattoo, I just cut a hole in the top of my shoe so I could run without rubbing my freshly inked foot.
If I have hopes of extending my running career into the next several decades, I gotta learn to recognize when determination is just stubbornness in disguise.