I’m Not Sick (I Think)

Dearest Rachel –

…♫but I’m not welllll♪…

Just after telling you about my consistency at the gym this week – and putting in five-plus miles each time in a matter of sixty-five minutes – I woke up this morning stiff and sore, and in no mood to get over there and put in my now-daily routine. Which means I’m now going to be skipping it for the same number of days that I’ve been showing up, as I’m working the booth this weekend, and won’t have the time to get in tomorrow or Sunday.

Now, to be fair, the stiffness isn’t just from the three days of working out; the walk yesterday added just under seven more miles (in hiking boots, no less!) to yesterday’s tally. And while I tried not to show it, I think I was starting to deal with a blister on my left foot – which has been there for some time, but the fact that I continue to work out simply prevents it from healing completely – and was starting to tread a little gingerly after logging my tenth mile or so. But by evening, my hip joints felt like they needed oiling, as well – not that I can actually do that. I mentioned it to the folks at dinner last night, and they suggested I take it easy today; and it’s not like I have to be told twice to do that. In fact, I may have taken things easier than even they would have liked; normally, on days that I don’t hit the gym first thing in the morning, I’m able to get to the ‘office’ a lot closer to my ideal time of nine o’clock. Today, between one thing and another (and I’ll see if I can’t get a separate letter to you about part of that soon), I barely managed to make it over by eleven, which is more akin to a workout day.

In my defense, I did have a laundry to do; I was basically out of white socks, since gym days mean using two pairs a day (and even when I didn’t hit the gym on the ship, I had to change pairs before and after swimming, too), I’ve been going through them much faster than I used to.

But also, there’s the fact that it’s not just the stiffness in my bones, honey. When I first woke up this morning – in the pitch black that says I’d have plenty of time to hit the gym, if I was so motivated (which I wasn’t) – not only hadn’t my joints completely recovered with the few hours of rest I’d given them, but my throat was scratchy, from my uvula to my collarbone; it felt like there was rust that had collected on the inside. While it occurred to me in the moment that a dose of hot liquid might have been able to rinse it out and down, I was hardly able or willing to rise from my bed to prepare something like that, especially at such an hour. All I could do was to try to get back to sleep, and hope it was less so the next time I woke up.

Did it work? Eh, I’m not sure. Yes, by the time I opened my eyes again, a couple hours had passed, light was seeping into the room from outside, and I had no trouble getting up and getting myself prepared for the day – including starting that load of laundry, so I wouldn’t have to leave the house wearing dark socks and gym shoes. Even I know that’s a fashion faux pas.

At the same time, my throat, while it’s not sore as such, isn’t completely free of rust, even now. That’s usually a less-than-ideal sign, the harbinger of a cold. However, since I’m not feeling poorly (apart from my stiff hips; yes, they’re still a thing, but I’m assuming they stem from a very different cause), there’s not much I can do about it other than to carry on with the rest of my day, and see if I can’t shake off – or stave off – what I seem to be dealing with.

With all that being said, you can understand why I’m going to ask you to keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. Clearly, I’m going to need it.