I was definitely sick this morning, but also in denial, so I decided to go on a run. Brilliant idea, right? It felt wonderful—I set off with a smile on my face as I try always to do while working out. This isn’t a miserable activity for me.
About fifteen minutes away from my apartment, I’m already crazy fatigued. Doesn’t usually happen that way. I haven’t been running for a while, but just a few weeks ago I went for 45 minutes straight—what’s different now?
It might be the fact that I woke up uncontrollably shivering and then breaking in and out of a fever. Pain and aches all over, sore throat, headache, the whole nine yards. Again, definitely sick, but I refused to acknowledge it. It’s much nicer to think I’m invincible, yes?
That’s a nice revelation to have. It’s humbling. So much of life is in our control—until you realize the underpinnings you can’t control. I like to think I’m motivated and driven, but that’s nothing if I’m ill or somehow made unable to do the things I want to.
To a certain extent, thinking you’re unstoppable does work. I just finished reading Jerry Weintraub’s book When I Stop Talking, You’ll Know I’m Dead, and there are dozens of stories where his uncanny confidence and relentlessness leads him down a road that positively changes his life. That’s one thing. Being in denial is another thing. I learned that—at least temporarily—in a small way today. Maybe that will instill some humility in me for the rest of the week.