Surviving the first month?

I thought I had made it through the first month of the school year. Two boys and two different schools means for a hectic drop off and rushed end of the day. Every morning had tears when Number 2 said good-bye; suddenly, without rhyme or reason, those tears stopped last Thursday. Success. Number 1 had settled into his morning and afternoon routine, made it through a change of teachers half-way through the month, and was happily participating in extra-curriculars. Another success. Me, I had found balance between work and family and still made time to run. I even finished a half-marathon at the end of September with a very respectable time. Dad has also had to make adjustments: morning drop-offs and pick-ups on his off-days; planning time with the boys so that I could do my long runs. A huge success. So, when October 8th arrived, the official start to the second month of school, I thought I would be writing about how well we made the adjustment to a new school year. And, in many respects we did. But, on October 7th, that all changed.

That was the day I took my school cross-country team to our first meet. I wasn’t feeling great as I had been fighting a cold but, typical me, I felt well enough to go. This meet is a big event and I really needed to be there – for the 150 kids, for the school and for me. Our team ran well, bringing home several ribbons and two pennants. However, as the day progressed, I started coughing more and more; as soon as I got back to school, I booked a doctor’s appointment and a supply teacher for the following day. That night, the coughing subsided but I still felt like a bag of dog dirt.

So, the first month of school was a success. The boys are happy, I ran well, and my cross-country team had a fabulous meet. But, yesterday, I was diagnosed with silent pneumonia. This makes no sense to me as I just ran a strong 10K on Sunday night. Now, I can barely make it up the stairs. And, there is nothing silent about my cough.

This means my plans for October have completely changed. I’m no longer running a half – the race I’ve been training for since June – at the end of the month; instead I’m gearing up for recovery. I’m starting at the bottom of the hill and climbing it is bound to be so, so frustrating because I’ve had to abandon my goals. I know I have a long way to go but, once I get to the top, things will be easier. There is always another race; it just may take a while to get there.

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