The four moany stages of the common cold

There’s something in the air at the moment. Germs. Sniffles. Raspy lungs. Fevers and chills. Lately on the U&R Alumni Forum a number of our runners have been struck down by lurgies. Can colds be caught over the internet? I joined their miserable ranks this Saturday at 3am, when I woke up feeling like my throat was clogged with razor blades.

Since then I’ve been moaning my way through the first four stages of the common cold:

Stage 1 — I want my mum.
That initial fetal position delirium.

Stage 2 — Panic.
When the ‘flu seeps into your bones and you can barely raise your head off the pillow, you realise this isn’t going to be over in a day. I can’t have a rest day. I have a training schedule, dammit. What about that half marathon? How will I come back from this?

For me, the humble walker, the panic is less athletic. My tizzy is because this is the most exciting week in the Up & Running calendar! Our second Bologna retreat starts Thursday. I need my voice for endless chitchat with our global gaggle of lovely runners. I need maximum energy for worrying if everyone is having a good time and getting enough to eat, dagnabbit!

Stage 3 — Fear that it will never end.
What if I have this cold… forever? What if the lung butter never dissolves? What if my legs are perma-leaden?

A montage of skipped workouts plays in my mind… the couch flops with book; the kicking of trainers under my bed. All those times I had a perfectly healthy body and didn’t take advantage of it. FOOL!

Stage 4 — Vowing to never take my health for granted EVER again.
I will never skip another workout. I will eat 264% more fruit and vegetables. Anything to avoid feeling this awful, ever ever again! I swear, I’ve learned my lesson this time!

I’m trying to rest up in order to reach Stage 5. Tentative Recovery. There’s so much to do to ready for Bologna – obsessing over the weather forecast, my wardrobe, the contents of the goodie bags and the SPF of sunscreen…

If you find yourself in Stage 1 – 4, please rest up, buttercups. Let your bodies recover and recharge, ready for more great feats of athleticism. Clear lungs and blue skies will come again. I raise a scrunched-up soggy tissue to you in solidarity.