Not Running

So it's 8:45 on Saturday morning, and instead of running through the streets of DC in the National Half Marathon, as I have trained for, fundraised, and planned on for so long now, here I sit at my computer, trying to come to terms. I got back from Haiti Wednesday night and brought a most unwelcome souvenir with me: the plague. I started the trip at a disadvantage, having come down with a violent stomach flu just a few days before. But I was on the mend and hopeful that my usual good health would prevail. Wrong.

Between the bad water, scary food, and sharing a bathroom with seven strangers (with no electricity and only cold, dirty water), I didn't stand a chance. Several people in our group got sick, almost all in fact. But I hung in, was extremely careful about what I ate, and managed to ward off major illness. Until I got home. Within two hours of being in my own house, where I could finally relax, I came down with a variety of unpleasant symptoms that led me to the doctor yesterday. I have a virus, an infection, was dehydrated and other related miseries. I couldn't walk around the block comfortably, never mind run 13 miles.

After fighting the inevitable, sure I would bounce back in time, I finally had to give up yesterday afternoon and tell my running partner Holly I couldn't do it. She was just as stunned as I would have been, wondering how the hell she was gonna go it alone. We've done all our long runs together, become great pals, were counting on each other a lot. Holly has had her own major struggles this week. She has two small boys, one she is still nursing, and her husband had back surgery after months of agony and being unable to help her with the house or kids. I don't know how she's juggled it all, in addition to going to school for her master's in ESL.

Thankfully, Rebecca, a retired marine and team captain with TNT, went over the race map with Holly at the pasta dinner last night and decided she could jump in with her at the water station she'll be manning at mile 5 1/2 and run the last 7 1/2 with her. So Holly will do great and finish strong, I'm sure. I cried all day yesterday and almost cancelled my party today. What was the point? I wouldn't have anything to celebrate. But my friends and dear ones convinced me there was still plenty worth celebrating, and I will live to run another day. Which I know, of course, but am still crushed with disappointment.

Meanwhile, as long as I'm complaining, my husband Pancho got a dog while I was away. Two days after I left, in fact. A very cute black, terrier mix that is very sweet and calm and will not grow much bigger than he already is, which is not too big at all. But the key issue here is: I am the only person in this house who has never wanted a dog! I am starting a home-based business and have been longing to be in my house, all alone, with no one to be responsible for, or to care for. I have dreamed about it and looked forward to it. I have envisioned going out to exercise, coming home and settling in with a cup of coffee to work on my novel. Then showering and working on my new business, all in the peace and quiet of an empty house -- heaven!

And now we have a PUPPY, which is like having a BABY. Pancho is gone at least 11 hours every day. The kids are gone at least 8. So who is going to care for this little creature, walk him in the middle of the day? As I said, he's very cute and sweet and I like him already. But that's not the point. I'm still mulling the point, and I'm not happy about it.