Felt awful trying to swim. My stomach was a mess, the appetite for it was not there; glad when it was over. Went to bed. Over the next 30-36 hours I was in bed or in the bathroom: something I ate, I suppose. Chills, shaking chills, fever; I'm a mess. And this is the first week, the launch pad for my half ironman effort. Great start, huh? Doubts.
Morning woke to a newer me. There were the first stirrings of an appetite again. But what made me smile, is that I wanted to run. Yes, the appetite for food and life was being born again. I had been humbled by all this; made so vividly aware of the precariousness of life and health. Hard to imagine, that I am one bite of food away from trashing my body like I did. But, with the force-fed humility came a new appreciation of what I can still do. And, a thankfulness to God for bringing me through the illness and to this realization. The weather turned out much cooler than usual this morning, almost as if it were just for me. To my surprise, I was able to run 3 miles without a problem, despite not having any food for a few days.
What a good feeeling! A post-run prayer seemed in order, but wait: Take off your cap first.
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