THE miracle recovery I’d hoped to make in time to race last weekend didn’t happen. I had to withdraw from the 10k and seek medical assistance instead.
Having spent weeks training for this particular 10k, I was really disappointed not to be on the start line. I did everything I could to be there, and didn’t want to admit defeat, but in the end I had no choice. I could barely walk, let alone run.
I went to the race to support Chris.
I stood on the sidelines and watched, but even that was too much. Later that night, I couldn’t breathe. I had to see a doctor.
I’ve spent the past ten days fighting a chest infection. Not being able to run has been frustrating, but it was the sensible thing to do. I needed to rest and recover. In the hospital there were lots of posters about how flu can kill people. Then the nurse reminded me that people die from asthma. It was all cheery stuff! But, it did make me realise that I have to be careful.
In my last blog post I was determined to make the race. A bit of flu was not going to come between me and the chance of winning some vouchers or a bit of chocolate.
‘It’s only a race,’ Chris said.
‘It the race…’ Coughing and spluttering. ‘I’ve been…’ More coughing. ‘Targeting.’
‘It’ll kill you!’
Chris had a point. I dread to think what damage I would have done to my poor lungs if I’d put them through a 10k race. So I made the right decision. I didn’t race and I stopped running. I needed to focus on getting better.
And now I am better. There’s not so much coughing and spluttering, and my energy is coming back. I still don’t feel one hundred percent well, but I’m getting there. I’ve realised that there are no miracle recoveries. Hopefully, with time and rest, I’ll not be on the sidelines for too much longer.