And then Friday happened.
I was at work and my body started to ache.
I felt this instant and incessant need to go to bed.
So I left work early and did go to bed, where I stayed all day. And all afternoon. And all evening.
I sent my husband to Subway for dinner.
I was expecting to feel better on Saturday but I woke up in the morning and found the only thing I was capable of doing was napping. I sent my husband to Subway for dinner again.
Around 11:30pm, I awoke because I could not breathe. I sprung up, gasping for air, only to realize that I was choking on puke...... if you think that is gross to read, don't imagine how gross it is to experience. And, the proceeding events only get worse so I will spare you the rest of the details.
The fact I was sick was not shocking. Hayden had a stomach bug last week, Brenna had a stomach bug a few days later and David got the stomach bug a day after that. On Thursday I was standing in the kitchen, cutting an onion, praising my invincible immune system for not catching the sickness.
What I do find shocking is while David and the kids were able to poop a few times and be done with it, I was inhabilitated for days. They eat hotdogs and goldfish crackers. I eat spinach and kale. How does that work?
Anyway, I knew that I was going to show up on race day morning no matter what. I was just hoping that I could improve enough to keep some nutrition inside me - and even more so, I was hoping everything would remain inside of me during the race.
I can understand perhaps pooping yourself during the Olympic trials or something - but it would really suck to be the girl who pooped herself during a local sprint triathlon.
And here is the good news: I DID NOT POOP MYSELF!!
My warm-up, however, included simply dashing back and forth from the transition area to the toilet. On one hand, I was grateful to be empty. On the other hand, having an empty tank is not a great way to start a race.
My mindset automatically changed from "try to PR" to "just have fun!" It seemed easy enough to have fun while doing something you love. I realized while swimming from the dock to the start line, I was wrong.
Nothing is fun when you are sick. There was not a moment of that race when I did not want to quit.
My legs were so useless that at one point on the bike, I checked to make sure my break was not rubbing.
The finish line had champagne, massages and manicures waiting for us. Although those are my favorite things, all I could think about was my bed.
I think I was the first athlete to remove her bike from the transition area.
After I finally reunited with my beloved bed, my kids reminded me that I promised to take them to the "ice cream store." Ice cream actually sounded really good. On our way, we instead found ourselves at a shaved-ice food truck. The combination of ice and sugar magically cured me!!!
For an hour.
I realize if skipped the race, I would probably be better today. But, whether its ice cream or a race, I try to honor my commitments. I knew no matter what, I would live to write this post. After all, it was just a sprint triathlon, the worst case scenario was I would have to poop.
Was my race good? Not to my standards. I was eleven minutes off my PR.
But, the $65 entry fee came with a really nice cycling jersey. It is perhaps my favorite piece of race-swag.
And, now I can wear it proudly because it's not the race that I skipped - it's the race that I conquered while sick.
I will just feel better tomorrow instead.