Thursday, January 24, 2013

Bermuda...what happened?

Oh what happened...? I call it the race curse. A bit of bad luck. Things tend to come in threes so this was my third flop and now should be free and clear to race flawlessly in 2013. I don't know. This winter has hit us all very hard in the Halovatch household. I wish our good diets equaled perfect health but these bugs have got us down. Every time one of us gets anything all of us get everything.

The day we left for Bermuda, Mike had a 103 fever and was feeling bottom of the barrel for about 2-3 days then of course, it made its way to Anders and me the night before the race. With tears in my eyes (very sad to have to leave Anders so sick with Daddy), I miserably made my way to the start line knowing it was a bad idea to run but not wanting another DNS and praying to some race god that I was to miraculously feel better. First 5 miles weren't bad, I didn't feel 100% but moved along but then came the crashing wall of fatigue, coughing, dry heaving and stomach pain. Unfortunately, once on this course, the easiest way back to the finish is running (2 loop marathon course) so I ran miserably. Coughing so hard I swore I broke a rib and/or coughed up a lung. I was not a pretty sight though felt no regrets dropping out as I thought I was going to die.

Of course, dropping out meant now attempting to find a taxi and possibly Mike as I knew he would try to get out on the course. I knew he might be at mile 14 so I decided to walk towards mile 14 (1 mile death march) while looking for a taxi, not realizing how cold and wet and sad I would become. I quickly realized there were no taxis on Sunday and that walking in the freezing rain was pretty much my worst nightmare at that moment. Our cottage we rented was about 6-7 miles from the race start and without a cellphone or anyone willing to give a poor girl a ride -- I headed in the direction of home, shivering and whimpering cursing those same gods I prayed to about 2 hours prior to this mess of a day. To make my matters worse, every car that passed by sprayed a tsunami worth of ice water on my bare legs.

 Finally, a taxi pulls over and it's Mike and Anders...apparently, Anders had just projectile vomited all over the taxi and was looking so sick. Poor little guy. Poor daddy. We pretty much were all crying once we got back...ha, I stayed in a hot tub for probably an hour and then me and Anders were in bed the rest of the day. Anders had a pretty quick turn around. I however still have every upper respiratory infection going and a cough that could scare the devil, honestly. Well, it was an adventure and it is only January. For now, I am trying to heal us all up and attempting to keep those spirits high. Of course, it doesn't help that we came home to a building that has no heat or hot water. Someone is laughing somewhere but honestly, can we catch a break?!