yoinked

Today was the MJH8K, and I didn't run it.

I look forward to this race every year, it is the first reliable sign of spring. After a very long and snowy winter (60 inches of snow, in a place that usually gets about a foot), I *needed* this race. And guess what?

Yeah, I got sick. AGAIN. I've been sick more than well the past few months. It wasn't strep this time, but my symptoms were very similar - fever, aches, sore throat, swollen lymph nodes. The rapid test came out negative, and I haven't heard back on the culture, so that's likely negative, too.

And on top of it all, I pulled a muscle or strained a ligament or otherwise yoinked (that's the technical term) a good portion of my right torso. It's an injury nearly as stupid as the time I tripped going up the steps at the bagel shop and twisted my ankle. Like a total dummy, I messed with perfection and decided to hand carry a duffel bag rather than use my airline pilot wheelie bag when we went to Vegas (with a side trip to Zion National Park) last week. I can only move my right arm in certain directions - getting my shirt and pants on is quite the challenge, and I end up contorting myself like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat to avoid certain movements.

So I'm calling The Supportive Husband's physical therapist on Monday to get myself patched up.

I fully admit to being optimistic to the point of Pollyanna-ism, but my optimism is failing me right now. At this point, I'm just hoping to be able to spend a little time on the recumbent bike tomorrow. Lifting weights is entirely out of the question, as are running and swimming. I can't push either kid in the stroller. I know the 10 miler, 3 weeks away, is a no go for me this year.

And I feel like such a failure. I was totally on track to do it, I had padding built into my training schedule. But all those January and February weekday miles are as useless as our checked bag that never arrived in Vegas. Carefully planned and packed, but if it didn't show up on the baggage carousel, we might as well have never packed it in the first place.

I know, all those miles were good for something, regardless of whether I manage to meet my goals. Overall health and fitness, right? Cold comfort right now, as I sit swaddled in a heating pad.

And in the big scheme of things, a little yoinking really isn't that tragic. It's not like I blew out my knee or got cancer or broke my arm. So tell me to buck up, interwebs. Tell me that tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it yet. Tell me to play the glad game!

Tell me that I will kick the 10 miler's ass next year, and the sting of not running it this year will fade fast once I've got that finisher's medal around my neck.

Right?