Some people would consider a sinus infection a really bad thing. And spending a Sunday morning in Urgent Care, even worse. But the truth of this, is that I’m looking at my sinusitis as a sign of progress. Glass-half-full, if you may. And I got to read for two hours in my own little room, sa-weet! Finally, the bronchitis has morphed into the inevitable (and treatable with antibiotics) sinus infection, which I come down with about 93.2% of the time I get sick. It pretty much goes without saying – It’s just how my body works.
One more day closer to being healthy, armed with my trusty codeine-laced cough suppressant, hot tea, meds, and puffs plus Kleenix (indeed!).
I really was feeling better towards the end of last week, so much so that on Friday I added a brow wax and hair cut/highlight to my ART therapy apt. Why not? It was a busy day – my ART guru Dad worked on my PITA (Pain-In-The-Ass) gluteus-maximus which responded accordingly and remained annoyingly sore for another day post-appointment, but unclenched slightly. My hope is that my low-grade hamstring tightness will be alleviated with a non-knotted glute. We’ll see when I start back to running – whenever that is.
As for the brow wax – it was more of a maintenance apt. Just because – if I’m going to get my hair done, I might as well have a pair of neatly-groomed eyebrows (2, not 1) to match. I just chalked it up to part of my feeling-better-treatment and held my breath with each swift tug and rip. I didn’t do anything fancy with my hair; every time I see Brien I tell him that I want a few inches trimmed off and the usual layers added back in. Last time he shook his head and replied, “no.” I know he really likes my hair long and we’ve both been growing it out since the horrible bang debacle of 2011. I relented and had him take off less than an inch. This time he responded with, “Are you sure you want to do that?” I nodded my head. He still only took off an inch, but the layers seemed a tad bit shorter.
In other news – I’ve done a big fat ZERO of working out this week, which also means that I get “0” for calories burned on my Spouse Fitness Challenge. The SFC I can deal with, the non-running/hiking itself, ach, that’s a different story. As long as I don’t think about it, it doesn’t bother me. For the most part, I’ve been too tuckered out to do much of anything – but now I’m at that antsy I-hate-being-cooped-up stage. And I have to remind myself that no, the bread rolls that I ate at dinner with my soup will not spontaneously morph onto my ass. I just miss my morning runs along the coastal highway, and my weekend hike with C. In fact, she’s out right now on Rattlesnake Peak – and I would do just about anything to be with her. Oh well. Fingers crossed that the meds kick in soon, and before I know it, I’ll be back to my usual sunny self.
Patience, Grasshopper. It’s always the gazillion dollar question – when to go back to training, and when to lay off. It’s times like these that I’m really happy that I don’t race as seriously as I once did. The world will not end, if I miss another few days of training. And no, my ass will not spontaneously double in size overnight, either.
Enough of that. In happy news –
I pulled the trigger and signed up for the La Jolla Half at the end of April. Hooray!
And, when I was at the doctor’s this morning, N texted me to say that he was going to make Turkey Chili for dinner and get me a special Belgian-style beer to boot, and if that isn’t love – I don’t know what is.
Glass half full, peeps. Somewhere along the lines of 2 eyebrows not 1 , no more PITAs, and a man who cooks healthy chili. It’s where it’s at.
Progress. Even for Shitty Kitty.