“Look, Marshall is steaming.”
I was. Not steaming mad — actually steaming. As in steam rising off my body. It was at the end of the workout and I was burning up.
I worked out with a cold today. And felt the virus choke me every damn step of the way.
I have a unwritten rule: If the cold is in my chest or I am running a fever, I don’t workout (or do something light.). I had a fever yesterday — but not this morning. So I got up and went to the track. And I once I got to the track, I could breathe (I once had pneumonia and went from running 10 miles to barely being able to walk 100 yards in less than a week). So I worked out.
I ran my two warm-up laps and felt OK. Achy. Grumpy. But I made it around twice.
We then went to Clark’s station and I managed to keep up with everyone. After that, it was Morgan’s station an
d I once again, held my own. But I was sweating profusely (more than my normal gush). I could feel the virus fighting back. Hard.
Connor and I did the squats routine. I was glad it was leg day for the sake of my shoulder (still sore). And my knees held out. Thankfully.
Then we went to running the A-frame. Connor and I led the pack — I hung with him because I can’t see going down the stairs and usually use someone else to gauge the stairs. (Running without glasses has its risks.) We then went to the boxes for some footwork. I pushed hard on it.
So by the end of the workout, I was steaming. I got home, took some cold medicine and was glad this week is over. I get to run tomorrow and will do a long run on Saturday.
The cold virus doesn’t have a chance.