Karen's Medal
Saturday was one of those days that just sails along. First we drove up to Carlsbad to get Karen’s bib number and other I.D. for Sunday’s Carlsbad Half-Marathon in which she was entered. Bright, sunny morning, even though rain was forecast. No traffic at the check-in site, though nine thousand people were entered in the thing. We picked up our friend Nataly, who was entered also – she is a veteran of events like this. She showed us a trick to beat the traffic on Sunday morning.
Driving home, we stopped for birthday cards and wine. We were going to a party Saturday night, one of those where couples get together regularly because they like getting together, they laugh a lot, and they’re all good cooks, plus this time two of the guys were celebrating birthdays. The first two cards we looked at were perfect. At the end of the card aisle and around the corner, we ran straight into a shelf on which sat the perfect gifts for these gentlemen. We found two good bottles of Cabernet (beef tenderloin was the entrée) for a combined $11 off, and were out of the store inside of five minutes. At home I didn’t even bother with lunch, preferring to entertain visions of the goodies to come at 6:30.
Can you see where this is heading? I sat down for a short snooze. Thirty minutes later, I woke up feeling weird. The day was still beautiful, but it didn’t much interest me. My appetite was gone. In my head was a tiny, whispering ache that said, “So you thought you were having a good day, did you?” I walked to the back and told Karen, “I don’t feel very good.” She felt my forehead and said, “You feel warm.” We took my temperature. It was right at 100. I would have preferred it to be 101 or 102, the hot, nasty kind that involves pain and toilets. But no, just 100, just enough to poke me in the gut and sneer, “No party for you, Mr. Hot Stuff.”
Karen called and cancelled and went to the store to get me some chicken noodle soup. She called Nataly to ask if they could meet and drive together to Carlsbad, since I probably couldn’t go. It was Karen’s first half-marathon, and I wanted to be there. But when she left at 5:30 a.m. I felt just bad enough to be happy to get on my back again. I hate those fevers that make you feel just bad enough, like, well, it’s not even the flu, you have just been having too much fun lately and now you are going to have to pay.
Karen got home at midday with cramps in her legs and a medal around her neck. She was very happy. “I did it in 3:45,” she said, where she had gone in reckoning on a 4:20. But that was if she walked the whole route. “I jogged part of the way,” she said. "About an hour." After the Breast Cancer 3Day in November, she saw the local half-marathons as good training for next November. She now has the first leg of the San Diego “triple crown” under her belt. Next is the La Jolla Half-Marathon in April, and the San Diego Half-Marathon in August.
“How do you feel?” she asked. “Better,” I said. The temperature was down to 99. This morning, our spring semester classes started at Grossmont. Guess what my temperature was . . . .
Saturday was one of those days that just sails along. First we drove up to Carlsbad to get Karen’s bib number and other I.D. for Sunday’s Carlsbad Half-Marathon in which she was entered. Bright, sunny morning, even though rain was forecast. No traffic at the check-in site, though nine thousand people were entered in the thing. We picked up our friend Nataly, who was entered also – she is a veteran of events like this. She showed us a trick to beat the traffic on Sunday morning.
Driving home, we stopped for birthday cards and wine. We were going to a party Saturday night, one of those where couples get together regularly because they like getting together, they laugh a lot, and they’re all good cooks, plus this time two of the guys were celebrating birthdays. The first two cards we looked at were perfect. At the end of the card aisle and around the corner, we ran straight into a shelf on which sat the perfect gifts for these gentlemen. We found two good bottles of Cabernet (beef tenderloin was the entrée) for a combined $11 off, and were out of the store inside of five minutes. At home I didn’t even bother with lunch, preferring to entertain visions of the goodies to come at 6:30.
Can you see where this is heading? I sat down for a short snooze. Thirty minutes later, I woke up feeling weird. The day was still beautiful, but it didn’t much interest me. My appetite was gone. In my head was a tiny, whispering ache that said, “So you thought you were having a good day, did you?” I walked to the back and told Karen, “I don’t feel very good.” She felt my forehead and said, “You feel warm.” We took my temperature. It was right at 100. I would have preferred it to be 101 or 102, the hot, nasty kind that involves pain and toilets. But no, just 100, just enough to poke me in the gut and sneer, “No party for you, Mr. Hot Stuff.”
Karen called and cancelled and went to the store to get me some chicken noodle soup. She called Nataly to ask if they could meet and drive together to Carlsbad, since I probably couldn’t go. It was Karen’s first half-marathon, and I wanted to be there. But when she left at 5:30 a.m. I felt just bad enough to be happy to get on my back again. I hate those fevers that make you feel just bad enough, like, well, it’s not even the flu, you have just been having too much fun lately and now you are going to have to pay.
Karen got home at midday with cramps in her legs and a medal around her neck. She was very happy. “I did it in 3:45,” she said, where she had gone in reckoning on a 4:20. But that was if she walked the whole route. “I jogged part of the way,” she said. "About an hour." After the Breast Cancer 3Day in November, she saw the local half-marathons as good training for next November. She now has the first leg of the San Diego “triple crown” under her belt. Next is the La Jolla Half-Marathon in April, and the San Diego Half-Marathon in August.
“How do you feel?” she asked. “Better,” I said. The temperature was down to 99. This morning, our spring semester classes started at Grossmont. Guess what my temperature was . . . .
Oh, getting sick when you're looking forward so something fun is THE WORST. Yeah, I'm sure you're feeling like a million bucks for the 1st day of school tho. Welcome back to the working world. Darnit. And congratulations to Karen. She is an inspiration.
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