It is 4am Monday morning and I am stretched out on my back on the bathroom floor. Only a few hours ago I was feeling invincible having just ran 15km on a beautiful spring afternoon. But then, at 1am it started. Without going into much detail, unlike Eyjafjallajökull, I was spewing more than ashes. More like Vesuvius circa 79AD.
By 5am I was feeling weaker than I ever did. Every muscle in my body aching. My head too heavy to lift. Confident I will pass out if I only sat up. Naturally I woke MBH up just in case these were my last moments [she gets too much sleep anyhow with our two little ones not so fond of their own beds]. Deep inside I knew I am fundamentally fine. No one ever died of food poisoning. And yet, I could barely think beyond the next, let's call it, spew. What a difference a few hours make.
And yet, our bodies are a funny thing. Come 6am my brain was saying to my body: "the kids are almost up, you cannot have them see you like that". And the body listened. Now, true, I wasn't myself for the next 24 hours. MBH took great care of me [what's another one when you are caring for 3]. And now I am back - just come back from a bit of a run. All well. As if nothing.
PS 345km down, 655km to go
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment