Déjà vu

Alternate title: Three Streps and You're Out.

I'm in a weird, unfamiliar place right now—one I've been fortunate enough to avoid as an adult until recently. I'm sick. Again. Again.

Four weeks ago, I endured some of the worst pain I've experienced in my life, thanks to a severe case of strep that attacked me with a vengeance. When the antibiotics that the urgent care doctor had prescribed failed to keep the infection at bay a week later, I went to what I now call an actual doctor (since the urgent care doctor didn't do a strep test) and confirmed that I still had strep. And yesterday, my lymph nodes began to flare up again, those trusty little beacons signaling the start of yet another round of illness. Today my doctor told me that he's baffled as to why the antibiotics aren't working, and that yes, it's still strep. I'm not sure at what point I can distinguish having strep again and still having strep. Grey area, so I'll go with the latter.

There is truly nothing worse than being sick as an adult and having to take care of yourself. Dishes, good intentions, workouts, and, to an extent, your membership in society fall by the wayside, as everything is sacrificed in the name of rest and getting healthy. It's exceptionally frustrating for me to be in this place, not just because Pearl isn't that great of a caretaker when it comes to things like making me tea and bringing me ibuprofen, but because I have so much to look forward to this fall.

If you've been following my training on Claim Your Journey, Twitter, or Dailymile, you know that I sort of impulsively signed up for the Jazz Half Marathon in New Orleans on October 29. I have a couple weeks to build base mileage up to 11 miles. In fact, it's now the beginning of a new week, so there's a 10-mile run waiting for me in a number of days. Beyond October 29, there are races, holidays, get-togethers, and other events I'm looking forward to. I don't want to be held back.

The good news is, that despite having antibiotic-resistant strep (which, upon lab testing, will be reported to the CDC like I'm a patient in a biological warfare film, says my doctor), I can still run. I can still be active.

On Saturday, I ran what was undoubtedly the easiest, smoothest, happiest nine miles of my life. Everything clicked. My fueling worked. My mind was in the right place. My legs happily made it through, with minimal soreness afterward. And as I was running, I thought to myself about how glad I was to be out there, how good it felt to be outside with the wind and sun on my face.

Lesson learned, and oh how I've learned this lesson before: never, ever, ever take your health for granted.