Short run ended in squeaky toy transformation

I went for a run yesterday, though I probably should not have. After being sick for a week, my back had gone back to its original, terrifying spasmic self and rendered me less than useless. But, after a hot bath had loosened my muscles, I decided to go for a brief 3K run.

It felt great to be moving again, and actually be outdoors. I felt useless just lying around with absolutely nothing to do. So out I went, braving the elements.

Okay, it actually went terrible. I couldn't breathe, my lungs and throat were on fire, but I was moving forward and that was a start. Luckily, it really wasn't that cold out and the sun felt nice against my pale skin.

The coughing began, I was completely doubled over, hacking what felt like a lung up and out of my mouth. Nope, just phlegm. What a lovely picture, I know.

I perseved, covering a measly 3K when I wanted to be doing 8, by the way, did I mention that I have a race in two weeks that I really should be training for.

The Fat Ass Trail Run is coming up on the 15th of November. And while I will have no problem with the distance, and will probably feel like death when it's over, I still wish to train for it. Somehow the idea of running up a ski hill feels a little daunting to me.

But not yet, there is no way I could tackle anything like that when 3K of slightly uneven terrain leaves me squeaking like a dog's chew toy. The sports drink I carried helped a bit, but it was an undeniable likeness.

Should be interesting when I go tonight for a trail run...