post the sixty-seventh, 2013

it hit me about 3pm yesterday.

i don't know how i missed -- or ignored -- the tell-tale signs. before it hits, i will get this distinctive tickly feeling my nose - a feeling that can only mean one thing: DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! DANGER! TAKE ZYRTEC-D NOW! STAT, PRONTO, AND ASAP! if i catch it then and take a zyrtec-d before it really gets going, i can alleviate the worst of it and sometimes stave it off altogether. i don't know where my head was yesterday (first day back from vacation...) but bottom line - i managed to ignore the nose crying in the wilderness.

that is, until 3pm, when it shut down operations and started jettisoning ballast. have you ever had a nose so runny that your only option is to make a plug and jam it up there, boxer-style? that thin, watery snot that can only mean one thing: ALLERGIES. i wised up too late, took a zyrtec-d around 3pm and hoped for the best. alas, things are still quite bleak today.

but, i pre-gress.

at 1:41am (those who wear watches to sleep - unite!) i suddenly awoke. wha? wha? hmm... i can breathe! it's a miracle! the zyrte---- DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! DANGER! CRAMP IN THE PORTSIDE CALF! CRAMP! CRA---- wait! everybody calm down. shhhh... be still... be vewy, vewy still... we a' huntin' a cwamp... de wise huntew can outsmawt de cwamp by wemaining vewy, vewy still.

whew. that danger passed, and i could, in fact, breathe better, and i also got up to pee and peed clear (TMI??) which is a clear sign of being well-hydrated. although my portside calf felt bruised, i was slightly encouraged and retook the sleeping position for another few hours.

when i awoke, it was to find that the mid-night breathing had been a dream or perhaps the action of some gentle sleep-faerie, because here at 5am, i could no longer breathe through the upper breathing apparatus. WELL THAT'S JUST GREAT. i have probably the hardest workout of my training cycle today and firstly, i can't breathe, and secondly, my portside calf has apparently been bludgeoned by a freight train. TERRIFIC.

as the morning moves along, i am slipping artfully into a personification of three of the seven dwarfs: sleepy, sneezy, and dopey. my leg is tender, too, and the workout is looming over me like a guillotine. (dramatic much?) i consider putting it off until tomorrow, but... well... firstly, you can't tell how you might feel on race day, you know? so you have to do the workout even if you don't feel it. secondly, well... i would just feel like a badass if i could pull this off in this condition, and that would be a confidence boost. and, finally, leaving it till tomorrow isn't going to get it done any sooner (durr) and i really just want it to be over. i want that feeling of having done it well, rocked it even, and you can't have that feeling if you don't do the workout.

so. i buck up and go. on my way over to the track, i am still not feeling it - just tired all over and whatnot. i get there and it's crowded. the track and soccer field sort of half-belong to a college, and there's both soccer and track practice going on. okay, not thrilled by a crowd, but at least there will be something to look at. i put my office passkey and long-sleeve shirt by the fence and step on the track. bout as well get started, right? whew. breathe. the workout is 8x800. here we go.

i step into lane 1 because why the hell not? and i lay down 800 just like that. okay, one done and hey, feeling surprisingly good, getting my legs under me here. i find with these things, it's best not to think about the fact that there are SEVEN MORE TO GO. just take them as they come, you know, and knock 'em down one by one.

recovery lap. second 800. still feeling okay, still not thinking about how there are SIX MORE TO GO but hmm.... getting optimistic. recovery lap. start the third 800 and halfway through these girls are coming up behind me so i move to lane 3 and let them pass on the inside. pretty sure i could have been a dick and stayed in lane 1 but that's not how things work at the track. so i finish that 800 and that's three, recovery lap, and for the fourth 800 i stay in lane 3 and i'm thinking the whole time that after i finish this one, i will be halfway done.

do the recovery from four and start five, and those girls are coming up at my back again. i think they are doing 400s. anyway, they are coming around and all the other track kids (soccer's done and gone by now) are yelling encouragement to one girl -- GO! PUSH IT! -- calling her name. the other must be pacing her. they come by me on the inside and i join in -- GO! PUSH IT! (i don't know her name) -- and they finish and plop down on the soccer field.

i finish five, recovery, start six. i am more enthusiastic now, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, thinking how great i will feel when i get done, pre-using those good feelings to push myself. six done. ONLY TWO MORE WOO WOO!! recovery lap, and start the seventh 800. i'm coming around the first turn and those girls are leaving -- walking straight toward me to cross the track at the curve, and the one who was doing the workout says to me, "hey, thanks for that back there. thanks." and i am all, sure sure. i am playing it cool but i am over the moon. she's not saying thanks to some old lady who didn't belong on the track -- she's looking me in the eye and sincerely saying, thanks. i feel like i belong. maybe she's mocking me and i am too tired to pick up on it, but i'll take it.

i finish the last bit of the workout and get that great "i did it" feeling. i step off the track to stretch a little before the trip back to the office, and that's when i see it: track dust on my shoes. yeah, that happens sometimes, when you're a runner.

real runners get track dust on their shoes.