I woke up this morning feeling pretty much the same (if not worse) than yesterday: sinus headache, clogged sinuses, stuffed-up nose, sore throat, cough, and tired, like I'd been hit by a truck. Being the genius that I am, I decided that since E was feeling better, we should go for a run. That should have been my first indication that sickness insanity had hit me.
We dropped off L at school, drove out to the north end of the river trail, loaded up, and started. I felt fine for quite awhile, even feeling my sinuses clear out. Ah, yes, this is why I wanted to go running, to clear my head, sweat out some of my sickness, enjoy the perfect late summer weather, and get some fresh air.
Everything was fine during my run. E chattered away at me, had her snack, pointed out all kinds of things (we saw a pair of bobcats!), and felt the need to point at every trash can too. I purposely made it a short run so that I wouldn't tire myself out completely, so it was only 2.2 miles. At mile 2, I started going back uphill just slightly to the playground at the end. E was excited for the playground, and I was excited to be almost done. Let's push a bit, shall we? Faster! That's when my stomach decided it wanted none of that. I don't know what I did wrong, but I'm so glad E pointed out the next trash can, where I nicely deposited my breakfast. E was quiet for a moment, then asked me if I was sick (yes), and then said "thank you not puking on me, Mama."
Remind me of this the next time I'm sick and want to run. Better yet, tie me down somewhere so I can't even go out. Blarg.
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