Last weekend after running my long run, and being completely unable to walk afterwards, my husband laid it out on the line, "Kimmie, maybe you shouldn't run your half." I got all sorts of huffy on him...but did what I normally do, take his advice, stew about it, then took it to prayer.
I am a very religious person.
I know there is a God, and that he loves us and is here to help us.
After praying, I got my distinct answer...that I shouldn't run this half marathon on Saturday.
But, like most children, I took my Father's advice and I didn't listen...I took it upon myself that I would in fact run because I had been training for this for WEEKS.
All of the hours pounding the pavement to what?
Give up now?!
P'tcha...that was not me. I am no quitter. Hurting feet or no, I was going to cross that finish line.
Fast forward to yesterday morning at 4 a.m.
I awaken to the. most. painful. throat. E V E R.
Within two hours said painful throat had turned into
fever, chills, cough, congestion up the ying yang.
I spent 5 hours on the couch in fitful slumber while my
six year old played dad and delightfully helped me in any way possible.
Last night was no different.
In fact, if possible, I thinkI may have passed out a few times
IN. MY. SLEEP.
So, the Fates conspired.
And they won.
Oh how sad I am to admit that they won.
No race tomorrow.
I am a believer.
I will listen.
I will go back to bed now.