Last Wednesday morning I very nearly asked my husband, for the first time in our marriage, to give me a shoulder massage before I left for work. This should have been my first clue that something was amiss. By the time I headed home (a little early), I knew full well I had a fever and was quickly descending into full-on sickness. I went to a work-related party for about 10 minutes, went home, and was in bed before 7pm. I remained there, almost continuously, until 11:15 Friday morning at which point I re-commenced grading on my couch. By Friday afternoon I was feeling somewhat better, and after coercing myself to attend convocation, I was decidedly on the upswing. Friday evening we attended a lovely barbecue at our neighbors' house (our former neighbor's sister who is our current neighbor--random and confusing!). I felt well enough to be sociable and not worry about being contagious, though I didn't really eat.
So that leaves us at Saturday morning and my having consumed about 1200 calories total since Wednesday at about 1pm. And you know what the means? No long run.
Also, my husband had contracted a somewhat milder case of whatever I had. Which also means, no long run.
So I slept as long as the kids would let me (8:15). I got up. We got dressed. Ate breakfast. Watched some cartoons. Walked down the street and got them haircuts, bought a graduation card for a friend, and picked up a loaf of bread. Walked home. Let them play in the yard while Mr. Joanna and I did some yard work. I took my older son on a gorgeous drive to buy a new pair of shoes (and clearance ski gloves!) and we randomly stopped at a yard sale on the way home, where I purchased a toy car garage for my younger son for $2 and a toy tape measure for my older son for fifty cents.
It was all unimaginably wonderful. And I didn't run.
Does this mean I long to give up Saturday long runs? No. Don't be ridiculous.
It means that doing long runs like clockwork every Saturday makes me more grateful for an unexpected morning at home.
It means that after my marathon in September, I will savor a few Saturday mornings with my family.
It means that we have a family unit that is flexible to each other's needs and wants.
It means that I'll be happy to be back on my training schedule next week, and I'll hope to stay on it. But a temporary derailment can be perfectly wonderful too.