I am now feeling the full blown effects of the "poo." As of last night, I was still determined to run the planned 5K this morning despite the fact that I felt a touch feverish. I set out my running clothes and prepared my race forms and money, and dutifully set the alarm for 6 am. But I tossed and turned, my nose ran all night, and my body heat varied from chills to sweats. At four, I got up and took some Sudafed in the hopes that it would ease the sinus pressure and perhaps make me ready when the alarm would sound in two hours, but when the alarm went off, I did not feel any better.
True, my nose wasn't a river of snot, but instead, my head felt as though it had been stuffed full of cotton. I got up when the alarm rang and shuffled into the bathroom. I got a drink of water, and then decided to go back to bed. I was exhausted and sick, and I knew I wouldn't run a good race; in fact, I wonder how much I would have been able to run at all.
I don't know why I felt I had to run this morning. It's okay to be sick; everybody falls ill every once in awhile, and to miss a race is fine as well. Who cares? It's not like I'm a racing champion with a title to defend or anything. There are plenty of other events I can participate in. So, I am disappointed that a virus defeated me, but I know I'll get a chance to run another 5K. Today, I think I will have some hot soup, crawl back into bed and watch TV all day.