State of Grace
The days and weeks fly by when I am immersed in a writing project. You pull your head up and are shocked at how time has slipped through both your grasp and your awareness.
On top of that I have been helping a close family member get their brand new house ready for another brand new incoming member. A nice thing to be a part of, but another thing to be absorbed by.
Most of late October and the first half of November were great weeks of training. But as the weather here got colder - at least by West Coast standards - my asthma again became a factor in my training. Shades of Portland.
My Achilles Heel does seem to be my carburetors! As soon as I begin doing hard, hard training runs in air temperatures around or below freezing, I can nearly always count on inflaming my lungs and precipitating an asthma attack.
Then, if I am not careful in monitoring my condition, I lay the groundwork for leaving myself wide open for a lung infection, or a nagging cough that develops into bronchitis. These days I am wheezing like an old accordion that has seen one to many Schmengy Brothers Reunion albums... You probably have to be a John Candy or Second City buff to get that allusion.
Speaking of comedy teams - if you like, and especially if you love absurdist English comedy, you must go to YouTube.com and search for The Mighty Boosh. You will either laugh hysterically, or, and probably more likely, wonder yet again what the hell is Hemingson talking about?
Back to my lungs. I have a terrible chest cold right now that leaves me with coughing fits that are even keeping me up at nights. It's a terrible sensation not to feel like you can breath. Like having one of those dreams where you are drowning, except to make matters worse, you are all too wide awake. And having to sit up in bed at night is even worse. So I get up in the middle of the night, exhausted, but unable to breath lying flat.
At this point I have accepted that another marathon this year may well be outside the scope of my bodies ability to cope. Or more accurately, a Boston Qualifying Time Marathon. Such, I guess, is life.
Sometimes you have to accept the inevitable with as much grace as you can.
On top of that I have been helping a close family member get their brand new house ready for another brand new incoming member. A nice thing to be a part of, but another thing to be absorbed by.
Most of late October and the first half of November were great weeks of training. But as the weather here got colder - at least by West Coast standards - my asthma again became a factor in my training. Shades of Portland.
My Achilles Heel does seem to be my carburetors! As soon as I begin doing hard, hard training runs in air temperatures around or below freezing, I can nearly always count on inflaming my lungs and precipitating an asthma attack.
Then, if I am not careful in monitoring my condition, I lay the groundwork for leaving myself wide open for a lung infection, or a nagging cough that develops into bronchitis. These days I am wheezing like an old accordion that has seen one to many Schmengy Brothers Reunion albums... You probably have to be a John Candy or Second City buff to get that allusion.
Speaking of comedy teams - if you like, and especially if you love absurdist English comedy, you must go to YouTube.com and search for The Mighty Boosh. You will either laugh hysterically, or, and probably more likely, wonder yet again what the hell is Hemingson talking about?
Back to my lungs. I have a terrible chest cold right now that leaves me with coughing fits that are even keeping me up at nights. It's a terrible sensation not to feel like you can breath. Like having one of those dreams where you are drowning, except to make matters worse, you are all too wide awake. And having to sit up in bed at night is even worse. So I get up in the middle of the night, exhausted, but unable to breath lying flat.
At this point I have accepted that another marathon this year may well be outside the scope of my bodies ability to cope. Or more accurately, a Boston Qualifying Time Marathon. Such, I guess, is life.
Sometimes you have to accept the inevitable with as much grace as you can.
posted by Vince Hemingson at 11:30 AM
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