No Joy, No Aloha.
Resting my head seems to require the resting of my legs. Since I’m in the early stages of another headache, which is a pathetic thing to have to say on Day 5, I’m keeping the heart rate low while trying to stave off further vision loss. I want to drive a car again someday. What can I say, I dream big. So this is the super-taper. I haven’t exercised since Sunday’s long run, the last before next Sunday’s marathon. The odds of running the marathon diminish as my head pain lingers on, my vision goes in and out, and my confidence in my health continues to wane.
Had you asked 6 weeks ago how I would rate my health in comparison with the rest of America, I would have said I was significantly healthier. At least two standard deviations above average, perhaps even freakishly healthy, I would have told you. I had faith in my body and its ability to do whatever my little brain told it to do. Now I don’t trust it enough to commit to JQ’s birthday dinner in 5 hours. It will likely fail me again between now and then. I don’t have a lot nice to say, which is why the posts are coming less frequently, and the emails and phone calls are going unreturned. I firmly believe that it’s better not to say anything at all. In five weeks, I have had five days without feeling like there was a little man on my head ramming a knife in and out of my brain, leaving giant floaty blobs of nothingness in my eyes. I am whelmed.
The silver lining is that there is no freaking silver lining. OK, except for the reminder that without health there really is nothing else. It’s the primary requirement for everything I enjoy in life.
My email closing has wilted from Have a great day, Rachel to Life sucks and then you die, Rachel.
Resting my head seems to require the resting of my legs. Since I’m in the early stages of another headache, which is a pathetic thing to have to say on Day 5, I’m keeping the heart rate low while trying to stave off further vision loss. I want to drive a car again someday. What can I say, I dream big. So this is the super-taper. I haven’t exercised since Sunday’s long run, the last before next Sunday’s marathon. The odds of running the marathon diminish as my head pain lingers on, my vision goes in and out, and my confidence in my health continues to wane.
Had you asked 6 weeks ago how I would rate my health in comparison with the rest of America, I would have said I was significantly healthier. At least two standard deviations above average, perhaps even freakishly healthy, I would have told you. I had faith in my body and its ability to do whatever my little brain told it to do. Now I don’t trust it enough to commit to JQ’s birthday dinner in 5 hours. It will likely fail me again between now and then. I don’t have a lot nice to say, which is why the posts are coming less frequently, and the emails and phone calls are going unreturned. I firmly believe that it’s better not to say anything at all. In five weeks, I have had five days without feeling like there was a little man on my head ramming a knife in and out of my brain, leaving giant floaty blobs of nothingness in my eyes. I am whelmed.
The silver lining is that there is no freaking silver lining. OK, except for the reminder that without health there really is nothing else. It’s the primary requirement for everything I enjoy in life.
My email closing has wilted from Have a great day, Rachel to Life sucks and then you die, Rachel.
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