Just Keep Swimming On Dry Land

It's almost a month and I'm a bit devastated--my viral infection put my swimming lessons to a ridiculous halt.  Logically, I know that my health comes first but my ego says fuck this shit.  How the hell am I going to learn how to swim if I cannot even attend lessons. 

My first two lessons made me feel just a tad bit hopeful but my bronchitis is got me all around screwed up.  Let's not forget loves:  I'm training for the North Face Endurance Challenge 50K...a goddamn trail ultra marathon.  I'm 12 weeks away and my lungs are inflamed.  What in the entire FUCK!  In short, I'm frustrated. Scared. Depressed. Exceptionally worried.  What am I going to do?
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To keep myself motivated, I picked up some cute swim gear from Torrid and popped off the tags to prevent myself from returning them.  Honestly, I don't even know if it's possible to return a bathing suit.  Nevertheless, I admired my beauties and promised myself that I'd return back to the pool.  At the very least, by week 8, I need to be able to get past my fear of submerging my entire body into the water and know how to do the absolute basics.  

During my second session, my swimming instructor managed to get me to float on my back without freaking out.  Realistically, I know I cannot drown in three feet of water but my fear is exceptionally paralyzing.  I throw out all sense of logic and find myself flapping like a bird with a broken wing. In my case, I probably look a bit deranged in my state of panic.  

At points, I took time to reflect in the advice that I give new runners or people who are looking to increase their distance:  Your race, your pace.  Fifteen minutes into class, I almost sunk into a pool of self-pity, acknowledging that I am the weakest link in our group.  Why does it take me twenty to thirty minutes to get calm enough to submerge my head under water?  On the other hand, I reminded myself that it was a LOT to simply get me into anyone's swimming pool.  This is an accomplishment of its own.  

Another lesson awaits me on Saturday and I'm hoping that this infection leaves my system by that point.  Winters are exceptionally cruel to my immune system; I tried every natural remedy in the book.  Ginger shots, juiced lemon with cayenne, drinking a bunch of water, honey, tea and a bunch of options that I'm tired of thinking about.  Right now, I resorted to taking amoxicillin and promethazine with codeine.  Blah, prescription cocktails are as fabulous as this raw cough. 

With a bit of a fight, I've been listening to my body.  I sleep when necessary, move with purpose and eat when necessary.  I miss the pavement heavily and not training in general stresses me the hell out.  Thankfully, some days, I'm blessed to have 30 - 45 minutes of energy bursts for me to hit the gym.  Anything past that point would be utterly ridiculous since I'm still sick.  It's not my most ideal workouts but it's something.

Sorry kiddies...I wish I could say that I'm progressing beautifully but I'm not.  This journey is an unpredictable one and it reminds me of marathon training severely.  Most times, we can create manuals around these things but things like this aren't so clear.  Keep me in positive thoughts because being a half-dead goldfish ain't cute, especially when your lungs are sore as fuck.