Sick daze

About 4 years ago I was coaching my daughter's soccer team, and by virtue of the league she belongs to, those of us who coach often referee the game after ours. It was a cold, wet, October morning. Happened to be a Sunday, so actually it was early afternoon - no games on Sunday mornings, due to church. Since I don't go anymore, that Sunday ritual has been replaced with the group ride, which is a communal and spiritual event unto itself.

Based on the way I felt that day, I probably didn't ride. I was really weak, haggard, and suffering from a bad cold. I wasn't that spirited during our game, and my dad thankfully took the kids to his house so I could ref (if aimlessly walking around a muddy field with a whistle falls under that category) the game and then I dragged my butt home. By that point I was really wiped out, worse than I had felt in a long time, and I half watched the Redskins trounce the 49ers, which they were bound to do, as SF fielded a sorry team that year (compared to the Detroit squad that was to be an easy win this year...oops). I guess I called my parents and told them to keep the kids for as log as possible, as I was in and out of consciousness all afternoon. By the time everyone convened at home, I was a sorry lump of goo and truly sick.

I didn't go to work all week--by the time I finally figured that I needed to go to a doctor (for a second time), half the work week was gone and the diagnosis was finally made, which was pneumonia. Having never had this malaise, I didn't realize the extent to which the body just tells the mind that "you can do whatever you want, but we ain't going anywhere". The meds and antibiotics started beating it back immediately, and by Monday I was rarin' to go, and went to work.

At about 9:45 Monday morning I said to everyone: See ya later, I'm going home. And I did, where I alternated sleeping, sitting on the couch, reading the paper, and doing Sudoku puzzles for the next 4 days, with some increasing increments of work daily. It blew me away that the body just said "I'm done for awhile. I want, nay, NEED some rest." I guess I had been burning the candle at both ends blah blah blah, so it was sorely needed.

By the time I was back at work full time I had lost 15 pounds, and looked a bit drawn, but I was definitely rested. Four years later, I'm sitting here after 2 forced days off, as I have this virus that has travelled from my head on Sunday to my chest on Monday to my intestines on Tuesday, so by now it's pretty much gone. I mostly rested, with some work remotely from home, but once again the body tells the idiot what needs to be done in order to keep moving forward.

It's funny because 2 weeks ago, right before the CX season opener in Baltimore, I felt a twinge in my back. I haven't been riding as much as I usually do this year, but my volume has increased in the last couple months, so I thought it was strange that the muscles were feeling a bit strained in the lower back. As I moved a bowl--not a toilet bowl, or a large ceremonial urn, or even a big clay pot--from the counter to the cabinet, this effort to put away a clean cereal bowl resulted in a PULLED MUSCLE in my lower back. I gimped around the entire day, slept stiffly, and then raced the next day, thinking I would regret it later, but as it turned out it was not nearly as debilitating as I had originally thought. The back pain lingered through the week, extended by running and riding some more and racing again this past weekend, but only enough to remind me that I'm getting more creaky.

If only I would listen more.