Webb: Last run was last straw for my body

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ernie fun run

By the time I’d shaved more than six minutes off my personal best in a 5K, I was hopelessly addicted to running. Now, I haven’t jogged in 100 days.

I still get a little melancholy when I see people jogging. It’s a reminder that I haven’t worked out in three months and that I’ve been battling Epstein-Barr Virus since mid-April. To put it in perspective, I didn’t go more than three days without exercising from the summer of 2011 through April 2016, nearly five years.

Only twice in those five years did I go more than three or four days without running, both

splint

Shin splints prevented me from running for three weeks. I still worked out twice a day.

due to injury. In 2012, I ran into shin splints. More specifically, I didn’t stop running when I felt a burning sensation in my shins. I could barely walk the next day and didn’t run for nearly three weeks (I fed my exercise addition on the elliptical machine and on free weights).

Last summer, I went a few weeks without running after my only fall since the fitness makeover began in 2010. That fall, due to running in a construction zone at night, produced an ankle sprain and a quarter-sized gash on my knee cap. I survived the running drought with a heavy dose (sometimes twice a day) of weight lifting.

I’ve written about the impact my exercise addiction had on my health, from providing me with an excuse (an extremely poor one) for a bad diet full of soda, cheese and junk food, to feeding a virus that was hiding and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

That opportunity came a few weeks after a glaring warning signal from my body in the form of three days of a sore throat, extreme fatigue and throbbing headache. As soon as I felt mildly better, I went back to working out (with the clearance of a nurse practitioner).

I did back off a routine that included working out twice a day for two to three hours, exercising only once a day for a week. Within two weeks of that warning sign, I was back to old habits, eating poorly and working out far too much. It didn’t matter that I still felt sluggish.

My body finally raised the white flag on the weekend of April 30. On that morning, my stepson and I drove to Coyote Canyon in Topeka to attend a fundraiser for my nephew’s baseball team. I gorged on a breakfast buffet loaded with dairy and meat, figuring I would run later on to “work it off.”

After several hours of researching the Brenda Keller murder case for a graduate school project at the library, the breakfast bonanza still hadn’t settled. I felt terrible when we got home and slept for several hours.

True to form, I woke up early in the evening, put on my running gear and told my wife I was going to run. She said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but I know you’re going to do it anyway.”

She was right on both counts. I felt terrible as the run began, struggling to breathe as fatigue gripped my body. I turned toward a stretch of hills thinking I should just stop and call it a day. As always, I pressed on, gutting out several hills until I hit the two-mile mark and stopped to walk for about a quarter mile.

“I’m going to pay for this” kept running through my mind. My stomach hurt. My head was

Mizzou gear

Thumbs-up to working out smartly.

throbbing. My throat was soar. My breathing was shallow. My resolve, however, was not. I started running again, obsessed with hitting four miles (a relatively short run compared to most during the past few years).

After managing to finish, I downed a large glass of cold water, went upstairs and lay on the floor for 30 minutes. All I could think was, “I’m going to pay for this.”

I didn’t feel well the next day. I was tired. I also didn’t like what the scale said after Saturday’s breakfast barrage. That meant one thing: I had to work out. Instead of running, I lifted for more than an hour, finishing, as always, drenched in sweat and even more tired than the previous night.

Those were my last hardcore workouts. I tried to run the next morning, but my body wouldn’t have it. It’d had enough. I spent a few minutes on the elliptical and walked for about a week before a competent doctor confirmed that I had EBV.

Tomorrow marks 100 days since the last time I ran. I haven’t lifted a weight in 99 days. But I’ve learned a valuable lesson: Listen to your body … and to your doctor when he tells you it isn’t healthy to work out 15 hours a week.

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