What a difference a week makes. This time last week I had one thing on my mind, my return to running ultramarathons at the D33 following a near 2 year hiatus from the world of long distance running.
Whilst it most definitely wasn’t the easiest of days, mostly thanks to the debilitating cramps that struck me at mile 18 and stayed with me for the remainder of the race, retrospectively, it was far easier than the week that was to follow.
My legs were particularly sore in the aftermath of this event, no doubt as a result of the spasms that shot through them mid race. However. little did I appreciate on the Sunday that DOMS was to be the least of my worries in the aftermath of the race.
I left work at the usual time on Monday afternoon, feeling less than 100%. Arriving home, something caught my eye as I changed out of my work clothes – spots. Lots & lots of spots.
What followed was a swift deterioration of my condition, accompanied by the arrival of a multitude of spots, appearing in every conceivable place of my body, and more than a few places that I just hadn’t expected to see them!
At the age of 42, I was experiencing chickenpox for the very first time. I knew my time was coming. Ever since my son Harris arrived, back in February 2013, I realised that there was a good chance that he would get it and that he would then, as he does so well with all of his ailments, pass it on to me.
True to form, Harris appears to have developed a mild form of chickenpox, leaving me to experience the considerably more severe form. It’s all that I can do not to try and rip the skin off my body and I have to admit to finding the various creams and lotions largely ineffective at reducing the irritation.
Looking on the bright side, it could be worse. At least this happened in the week immediately after the D33, in a time when I was expecting to be taking things easy/easier anyway.
It could have waited until days before my next event, the Hoka Highland Fling.
What with illness, cellulitis and now chickenpox, I have surely had my run of bad luck as far as training for and running in ultras is concerned.
When I decided to make 2015 my comeback year, I didn’t expect that everything would run smoothly. I didn’t, however, expect this!
I’m still highly contagious at this point, with spots still developing wherever they can find a space and, as such, instead of heading off for a lovely weekend in Glasgow, I am confined to the house and trying my best not to scar myself by giving in to the numerous urges to scratch!
I’m determined, however, that I will still be heading to the Cairngorms for my birthday weekend at the end of the month, and, further, that there will be running!
I can only live in hope.
Hopefully, surely, things can only get better from this point on!