Head Case

I have a confession to make.  I am a germophobe.  I don't like germs.  I don't like sick people.  I don't like (even healthy) people touching things in my kitchen (the room where I spend most of my time at home).  I don't share pens or phones at work.  No one is allowed to touch my cell phone.  

I wash my hands a zillion times a day.  Totally not exaggerating.  After shaking hands with someone, my inclination is to hold my hand away from my body until I can get to the sink to wash.  (I don't actually do this, it's just the thought that's running through my head.  I wouldn't want to offend someone by actually doing that...).

At this point, I realize, you probably want to recommend a good therapist.  Or at least some good drugs, right? 

When my step-daughter is sick (which is often), I follow her around with bleach wipes in each of my hands.  Just to wash off anything she might have touched.  She knows not to step foot in the kitchen if she has even the slightest sniffle.  And one time she blew on her food, to cool it down, and I nearly went through the roof as the germs wafted across the table onto my food.  Poor thing has never so much as coughed or sneezed in my house cause she knows better.  When she's sick, she suffers in silence or bears the consequences (banishment).

I routinely practice all the things my grandfather instructed me to do (he's a retired MD) to prevent illness.  I use the neti-pot to prevent viruses and germs from adhering to my nasal mucosa and causing infection.  I drink hot fluids, coffee in the morning and tea at night, because viruses and bacteria on the tonsils don't like the heat.  I gargle with mouth wash to minimize adherence of viruses to my tonsils- a routine that is comical in itself and reduces my husband to fits of laughter.  (I don't know why, but I have so much trouble with this simple task!)  I pop Airborne like candy.  I sleep 8-9 hours most nights.  I maintain a healthy diet. 

Two weeks ago my older sister called me crying.  She was signed up to run a marathon that she had diligently trained for and days before the race came down with a horrible cold and bronchitis.  Sore throat, congestion, coughing, etc, etc, etc.  My worst nightmare.  She got through it and finished the race, although slower than originally planned because of her illness.  I didn't think too much of it until 2 days later....

My younger sister (who had been at the race with my older sister) was supposed to be flying in to visit on Wednesday.  Tuesday morning she leaves me a message, something along the lines of... "just to let you know, blah blah SORE THROAT blah blah CONGESTED blah blah COUGHING."  I nearly broke down in tears right there at my desk.  For 5 days, I was going to be confined to a car and sleeping in a tent with a sick person. 

On a normal day, this is mildly annoying.  21 days before the race that I have been training for since December 2011?  I hit panic mode.  I began frantically scrubbing every germ off of my body.  Listerine became the new water.  I drank so much tea I nearly floated away and I now own stock in Airborne.  I did everything I could to try not to catch "it".  But as you can guess, I now have "it". 

I am not the type of person to feel sorry for myself.  Shit happens.  Life sucks on occasion.  You deal and move on.  I'm a realist.  I'm not Little Miss Optimism.  I don't believe in roses and fairy tales.  I do believe that life is what you make of it.  If you surround yourself with people that you love, they will help you muck your way through the dung that clogs the sidewalks of life.  I'm not a pessimist, I don't sit around waiting for bad things to happen.  But when they do, rarely am I surprised, I just pick up the boot straps and wade on through the manure. 

But I must admit that I'm feeling really sorry for myself right now.  I have so much snot draining down the back of my throat and I can't breathe which makes sleeping very difficult.  (Impossible, actually in the last 48 hours... I'm surprised I'm coherent enough to actually type...)  The only thing that makes me feel worse than the copious amounts of post-nasal drip is the fact that my husband (who has worked equally hard over the last year), in all likelihood, will catch this crap from me early next week.  I'm predicting Sunday night.  He has targeted this race for 2 years as his next attempt to qualify for Kona and now... 

As I always do, I remind myself buck up 'lil camper so as not to start a pity party.  No one likes pity parties.  Least of all, me.  It's not a matter of will I be well enough by race day.  I have 15 days.  If I'm not well enough in 15 days, there's hellova lot more wrong with me than a viral infection.  The question is, will I be rested enough and my body feel spunky enough to take a shot at the goal I had planned for myself?  It's easy to say, well you're skipping workouts- you'll be plenty rested!  But if I'm not sleeping, is my body really rested?  Cause it sure as heck doesn't feel rested.  After tossing and turning all night long, unable to breathe,  I feel angry and frustrated and NOT rested. 

Right now I need a few words of encouragement, but please don't blow any smoke up my ass.  I'm not really into that (remember, I'm a realist, not an optimist).  I'm going to continue to believe that everything will be fine, and on race day this will be a distant memory. 

Disclaimer:  My illness is a product of natural selection and is of no fault of anyone.  It's not bad Karma.  God's not trying to punish me.  And it's not my sister's fault-- I know she's blaming herself right now.  It's just that time of year.  That's it.  I appreciate you allowing me to vent my frustration, and I apologize to everyone I've exposed.  This shit's no fun, but go grab some Mucinex and a nasal spray and within 10 days, you'll be back to your normal self.