Naturally, now that my knee seems healed, something else has to take its place, interfering in my training.
On Tuesday, I had all kinds of trouble breathing, but I managed to complete my 4.75-mile training run. By Thursday, I no longer felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, but I still had an annoying cough. We ran 3.1 miles out on some trails at the county park and for most of it, I felt pretty good. The last mile, though, I had some trouble catching my breath.
This morning, I planned to run seven or eight miles, depending on how I felt. The Army Ten-Miler is two weeks away, and I’d like to get close to ten miles before the actual race! But
last night’s margaritas this stupid cough didn’t make things easy.
We headed out at 6:30, into a slight drizzle. We took it slowly, but I knew early on it wasn’t going to be a pleasant run. Even so, I decided I’d rather run-walk seven miles than run all of a shorter distance. We stopped for water after a mile, walked part of the hill around two miles because I couldn’t catch my breath, stopped again for water at three miles, and turned around after 3.5.
The trip back went a little better–my stomach had been kind of funky, but I drank some Gatorade at the second water stop and that seemed to help. We ran more of the return route, and our last mile was our fastest. So at least we kind of redeemed ourselves there at the end. But I never could settle my breathing–I sounded horrible, I know.
I’m glad I got it done, even though it was unimpressive and unpleasant. My breathing is okay now, but sitting on the couch watching college football isn’t exactly strenuous.
B and I are supposed to run a charity 5K tomorrow, and I’ll decide in the morning if I’ll run it or not. “Early must I rise. Leave now you must!”