Run Rants #2: Fail

Fail.
Way to go, Mer.
You really know how to get inspired with something and follow through with it, right?

Well, what happened to running…

I’ve started a new schedule, driving now about 20 minutes to work/class (about 35 minutes on Friday mornings for some reason). I have yet to make it over to the rec. Last week was also flooded with a programming project and a midterm I fretted over all week. I kept forgetting to bring my lunch, and realized this Saturday night at Dick’s Last Resort for my favorite pilgrim’s big birthday…

Complete with Oregon Trail cake (perfection) – mostly because, after downing about 3 White Russians, my entire “Dolly Parton” plate with rice and vegetables, half of Leeta’s fries, some of Londa’s fries, and about a piece and a half of formerly reserved-for floppyware green and black icing-covered historical joke – I started thinking about the four pop tarts I ate Thursday, and the mix I ate Wednesday…

Shit, I can’t run if I don’t drink actual water, without vodka, and eat.

What’d I do this past weekend to celebrate life? I went to the AbbeyCreative Open House 50’s Glam Party, where we celebrated the business’s accomplishments with wine and champagne. And old jams like Frank Sinatra. We sat under vases with light feathers, laughed and shared over tealights, and partook in the great champagne bar that Twinkle put together – they did a great job! We stayed laughing until, well, I guess it had to be about 10:30, when there were several pounds at the door. We joke with our wine glasses that we better send the minors out the back, because it’s the cops! The tallest guy there goes to answer the door, and,

…Yeah, it’s the cops.

We’re all laughing.

They’re trying really hard not to laugh.

We ask the owner to come forward, who’s wearing this brilliant red dress, her blonde hair is huge, everywhere (this AbbeyCreative person is a real character, if you haven’t met her). She approaches the door to meet with the armed enforcement now standing on her strategically laid out red carpet (there could have been glitter). He, amongst hiding chuckles, asks us to keep it down. She invites him inside for a cupcake, and he politely turns her down. Keep in mind this is 10:30, we were playing epically old jazz music off of a laptop, and maybe just laughing at stories of each other, taking pictures – you know, the normal, calm things adults do on Friday nights.

Did I mention that, since we are in Austin, of course, the guy who answers the door happens to be wearing a t shirt portraying the chemical makeup of marijuana?

I digress. Yadda, yadda yadda – I didn’t get to sleep until like 7:3o the next morning, after making sure my partner in crime for the night was en route with plenty of water and caffeine to get her through her day…So yeah, that pretty much ruined any chance for running that weekend. I can’t go running if I’m not sleeping.

What happened this week? Tonsillitis from hell!

I woke up Monday feeling a bit under the weather, but I was pretty sure Thera Flu and Airborne could get me through anything (hell I’d been taking airborne for days). After working all day, napping, and returning to work that evening for a minor crisis, and having ice cream and Thera Flu for dinner, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I woke up to a brick wall Tuesday morning. My neck was swollen up like a huge bulldog’s, it was hard to stand up straight, but there was something at work that I really, really, really needed to take care of, so I ran over by 7:30. But by 9 I couldn’t take it anymore. I went home, not leaving bed until about 8:30 that night. I dreamt all day of some weird Iron-Man contraption in my nose, or being stuck in the video clips Metallica used from “Johnny Got His Gun” for their video “One”. I didn’t really know where I was, and couldn’t even respond when I was offered help. Not a fun place to be.

The next day I managed to cough up enough voice box to phone in an appointment at the student health center on campus, because I’m not set up with my insurance at my new job yet… covered, but not set up. Thank God I’m a student. I also got to talk at work, and probably had to explain several times who I was, since at this point, my voice sounded like one of those “identity hidden” people being interviewed on television – all wonky, distorted, etc. Or maybe like the guy from Saw (Oooo, I think I want to see Saw tonight).

I call this one righty.
(No, this is not the grossest picture I have of righty, or lefty.)
(You should have seen what I sent my sister.)
(Plus, righty looks kinda cute and fluffy here, no?).

So I’m sitting in the waiting office, pretty miserable, carrying a drool rag with me, because my tonsils are so huge that I can’t seem to close my mouth, and I’m having a lot of trouble breathing and keeping my head up. Yes, I have to sit here, in this waiting room, and hide the fact that I have a waterfall of saliva falling out of my face, my hair hasn’t been washed in two days through a couple of fever breaks, I barely had enough sense to throw on a Texas State t shirt (which also has drool on it) (Awesome, I am a 26-year-old infant). I have had a sore throat and been sick plenty of times in my life, but never have I not been able to suck it up and sit through the doctor’s visit, almost unable to take care of myself.

Some gatorade, heart monitoring, a negative strep test, a steroid shot, a z pack, a lot of sleep, a lot of money, and some odd-minding around later, I am finally coming back to life.

And that’s why I’m not running this week.

FAIL.