I did go to the 8K race today. It's no use just sleeping. I was tired and cranky after having been hooked up to a saline drip all night, but I am feeling better. So I went.
The race sucked. That's just what it is when you're lungs are doing 35% of what they should. OK, fine; I knew things would be like that. I actually had a pretty good first mile, had to walk most of miles 2 and 3, a decent 4th mile, and walked most of the last .97 miles. I did, however, finish strong. I couldn't have kept up the "strong finish" pace for any real length of time, but for a couple hundred yards, it was fine.
I turned around and waited for the next guy to cross the line. He was an overweight fellow and had been perspiring heavily. Yet I'd been struggling just to keep him in sight most of the race - he was walking/jogging, too - and only managed to pass him at the very end. I thanked him for leading me, even if he didn't know it. Turns out it was his very first race ever! I congratulated him on a job well done.
I also made a new friend before the race, a guy named Ed who's only been running for a little more than a year, having thrown in a lotto entry for the Marathon last year and had to start running when he got accepted. :) Well, it was nice to chat with him on the subway. I wonder how he did?
I did a 1:09:05, for a miserable 13:54/mile pace. Ugh. Placed 4525 out of 4597. Ugh. But believe it or not, this was a PR. This, my 56th race, was the first time I've ever run an 8K race. So...technically...it's a PR, right?
So I took the bus on down and went to my pharmacy to pick up my blood-sugar control pills and more Benadryl. I didn't notice 'til I got home - very nearly until I'd swallowed one - that they were the wrong pills! These are someone elses medication. The pharmacist lady didn't check names, didn't check my ID, didn't check name against what I wrote in her log book. I failed to check because I assumed she'd get the right person. So ... well, I'll go back and exchange them this evening. I've been working this afternoon and need a short nap - then I'm off to a dinner party. 9-course, all-pie meal. For pie day, you know.
So what was I thinking as I ran a little and walked a lot? Well, it went along the lines of:
But it was gone, all gone! No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey Hash! Turkey a la King! Or gallons of turkey soup! Gone, ALL GONE!
Except my litany was: No Easter Peeps! No chocolate pudding! No marshmallows, no angel food cake, no canned peaches! Gone! All gone!
This, of course, because I'm dwelling on my blood sugar numbers. I don't believe this is permanent. I think my system is out of whack because I've been sick and that my pancrease will get its act together soon enough. But I can't help but dwell on the possibility that I now permanently have a new dimension to my disease. Ugh.
I've turned on comments, by the way, but only to registered users. Somebody's going to have to get a Google account!