I remember at the end of my senior year my body kept trying to be sick, but what with state track, AP tests, graduation things, etc. there was simply no time for such nonsense. So, I simply had to put off being sick as best I could. It worked pretty well . . . only in the end I lost my voice for about a month's time.
The same thing happened occasionally as a semester would be ending in college. There would be papers due and finals to take. The flu would be knocking, but it simply had to wait until the day after all was done -- then I could hold off no longer and it would claim me.
Something similar (only slightly different) seems to be happening to me now. My knees were beginning to hurt running (as they have before) so I got some new pronation control running shoes (my ankle turns in too much during my heel toe strike -- which stresses your knees), but now my right ankle is developing tendonitis and hurts all the time (my sister-in-law Missy -- champion runner and Physical Therapist -- thinks these shoes have too much pronation control and are now stressing my outer ankles). I know my poor joints are trying to give out -- trying to be sore and have a good long rest, but there is NO time!! How can I let my injuries take over and expect to complete the training I need to for this Sept. marathon? I can't. No time now for such weakness. I just keep barring the door as best I can and hoping the latch will hold until after the race. Then the injuries can go ahead and claim me if they must.
Whatever happened to the old days when, if an unexpected rainstorm began during a mere stroll to a nearby manor, you would be immediately taken with a raging fever? You would most likely not even be able to finish your walk before such a life threatening condition would set in.
I guess it was probably best that women were all so frail back then. What other chance would there have been for some rich and noble bachelor to chance upon a woman in her moment of despair and carry her to safety? How else could he be expected to court her so devotedly and lovingly as he might whilst she lie in tremors and tossings on her sick bed? Eventually the fever would break, he would bring flowers, she would gaze serenely into his eyes, and a wedding would be forthcoming.
I suppose it would never have done for her to have been running about the countryside, miserable and sweaty with an aching knee and a sprained ankle. I can't imagine what kind of prospects that might have produced for any woman.
I guess it is lucky that I have already been courted and wed. Now Mike doesn't even have to send for the local doctor and bring me flowers and wait patiently night and day at my bedside. He just might have to buy me a new pair of running shoes . . . again . . . like he surprised me with only a month ago . . . because it would immediately fix all my knee problems (I'd assured him) . . . and there certainly wouldn't be more problems.
So, it actually might be easier for Mike if he could just toss me -- soaking wet, and in a feverish delirium -- over the back of his horse and trot me to safety. Maybe we are supposed to be frail after all. Who went changing things?