It didn't start well at the 15K race in September. And at about 5km my performance fell off the cliff in a completely unexpected manner. I walked more than I ran the final 10K and was a mess 'running' to the finish. I chalked it up to a one-off.
Since then my earlier morning runs have gotten more challenging. Especially starting out. That's always tough of course but it was taking a couple of km's before my breathing would settle down. Lots of heaving to pull in air but just not converting like I used to.
Caught a nasty cold in the interim. Visited my Doctor who checked out the chest...all clear. She prescribed an inhaler but that didn't help.
Strange is the best way I can decscribe my experience at BMO Field for the Grey Cup game in November: Lots of stairs to climb and I had to stop at each landing to catch my breath. Huh? I'm a lifetime runner. What gives?
The final straw happened in Negril at Reggae Marathon last weekend. I was well rested, felt well trained and was looking forward to a comfortable run. It started well but then I fell off the cliff. About 2 miles in I lost control of my breathing and started slowing. Dam! "This is not my day" I quickly surmised and adjusted to walk/run for the balance of the race. I felt like hell and that was confirmed by both Karen Savitch and Dan Cumming when they passed me on the road: "You look like hell...you all right?" "No...yes", I think I mumbled, determined to save enough to have a 'strong finish'. Getting my 8th consecutive Finisher Medal was a strong motivator.
I visited my Doctor last Friday and laid it all out. "No running!" was her immediate command. "Not until after we get the results of the tests". Yes, I've got a battery of tests scheduled over the next week to see if we can to the bottom of this. It may be something simple...that's my hope...because it sure isn't fun looking at the world from the bottom of the cliff.
Until next time...