Thanks so much for all of your thoughtful comments on last week's post. It felt really good to write it and to know that so many of you can relate.
After writing that and feeling so lifted by all of you, reality came crashing in.
We have a stomach bug. And it is a most nefarious bug. Lily threw up a few times Wednesday night, but was better by morning. And Thursday everyone was in good health and I thought maybe we had been blessed by the viral gods.
Alas, her illness was merely a prequel to the real deal.
Ben spent all of Friday throwing up. Mostly while sitting on me. I did not move from my couch save for the shortest of breaks for 24 hours. And even once he kept food down he was still a clingy, sad mess. He did not return to normal until late last night.
And still I hoped it would just be the two youngest to suffer. The curse of a large family is that there are plenty of people to acquire germs and store them. And sure enough, Taylor was afflicted last night. And oh my word, forget abs of steel from exercise, you develop abs of steel from cleaning up puke on your walls and elsewhere. Bad news, folks.
Today Taylor has rested and sipped on water and seems to be recovering. But now I wait, holding my breath with each cough, burp, or funny look. Just knowing that someone else is going to fall prey to this menace.
I'm supposed to run 13.1 miles on Sunday. My longest run up to this point has been 10 miles and that will be three weeks ago by race day. I have to tend to my people first, this week. I will hope and pray that I get to run on Sunday. And I will extend grace to myself for whatever effort I can muster. If I am spared illness and able to run, I will not focus on my time. I will celebrate good health.
I will celebrate not having to clean up vomit even more.