Damn you, Weather Channel, for leading me down a false path of hope

Several months ago, Heather over at Mama Maven and I decided that it would be great fun to run an 8K that is part of the local marathon. Heather is a bona fide triathlete who works out regularly and has done several different races this year.

Me...well, if you count racing to the nearest bar after work as a workout, then I'm a professional. Other than that, I've got nothing.

So as last week arrived, I got a little panicky. I hadn't run in four weeks, and that last run was pathetic at best. I think Coughstravaganza 2008 has taken its' toll on me emotionally as well as physically. All I have wanted to do is get through the day so I can crawl into bed and hopefully get a few hours of sleep.

As the week rolled on, the forecast started calling for rain. Then thunderstorms. Hmmm...I started fantasizing about how the race would probably be cancelled and then Heather and I could engage in other sports like shopping. And sleeping. I started obsessing on Thursday and checking the hourly forecasts for Friday and Saturday to see what was going to happen.

Heather came rolling in on Friday afternoon and was obviously enthusiastic. Finally I had the courage to ask her what she wanted to do if the weather wasn't good. She had plans to run unless there was lightning. Cold was okay, rain was okay, but lightning...well, probably not so good.

Around 2 AM Saturday morning, I woke up to pouring rain and lightning. I smiled a little bit to myself and rolled over and went back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 5:15, however, it was a different story. No rain. Not a drop. SHIT.

Well, that was that. Heather came bounding downstairs full of enthusiasm, so I was obviously screwed. There was going to be no talking her into skipping the race and hitting the mall instead. So Heather and I crammed down some bagels and got hydrated the best we could, and Joey and Monkey Man took us up to the race. Nothing like a little door-to-door limousine service, right?

The temperature was around 64 degrees with a light breeze and no rain. Humid, but not unbearable. The excitement around us was contagious, because as we were lining up for the 8K the half-marathon and marathon participants were all arriving and were cheering us on.

The run was hard. I probably hadn't hydrated enough so within the first mile both legs started cramping terribly and I had to start walking. Heather blazed on ahead and I watched her white hat bob on up the route, farther and farther away. Finally, at Mile 2 they had a water stop so I wrangled two cups and chugged them down. I'm not sure if it was that or that I was just getting more warmed up, but by the end of the second mile I was able to get back on track and run more.

The last mile of the race is all downhill and finishes in downtown. My lungs were burning and my legs were worn out, and all I kept focusing on was getting to the end so I could get a damn drink. As I crossed the finish line, I heard Joey calling my name and I looked over to see my boys standing there cheering. "Yaaaaay Mommy! You didn't die!!!" yelled Monkey Man.

Heather finished a few minutes before I did. We each got a finishers' medal, picked up the obligatory bananas and PowerAde, and went off to find the Pimp Mobile so we could get pancakes. Yum.

So anyhow, if running five miles wasn't enough torture, we had something worse in store for us. Monkey Man's birthday party at the laser tag place. All in all, it went well - if you like being boiling hot and being engulfed in the smell of Sweaty Boy Armpits. Gah. The kids had a blast, whereas Joey emerged from the Thunderdome with sweat rolling off of him and declared that we were NEVER coming back there again. So obviously, the party was a huge success.

Most of all, though, I was so glad to see Heather and get to spend some time with her. She is one of the most easy-going, fun people that I know - you can definitely be yourself and just relax and have a good time. I love friends like that! Not to mention the fact that if it hadn't been for her enthusiasm there is no way in hell I would've gotten up yesterday and done the race. No way.

Today, I'm sore but in a "I did something good" way. Nothing a little bourbon and Motrin won't cure.

*****

On a totally different note, we found out Friday that Monkey Man does indeed have asthma. When they do the pulmonary capacity test, if they do the nebulizer test and see a 12% improvement in breathing afterwards, then it's considered asthma. He ended up with a 22% improvement, so that was that. We're trying Advair, along with another 3 weeks of antibiotics to make sure that any infections lurking inside are gone, and then his regular allergy meds on top of that. And, of course, the coughing is now even worse and we were up every other hour with him last night.

Tomorrow, we go to the local hospital for x-rays of his sinuses...I guess my brother-in-law wants to see what is causing all the chronic sinus infections that then turn into upper respiratory infections and so on. Sigh.

I just want him to be better.