Forced rest and spicy carrot-bean-garlic soup

Every now and then, it's almost a relief to be well and truly flattened by a seasonal illness - because then I am forced to slow down, regardless of all the things I think I need to do or how far behind I think I'm getting or what a lackluster parent I think I'm being. A minor cold, random stomach issues, a persistent cough - I can work around those things, even if I feel really bad. It's only when I can't get out of bed that I have no choice but to stop and give in.

Wednesday morning, my nose was runny and my eyes were watery, but ragweed levels in our area were high, so I thought that was the culprit. I took some allergy meds and waited to feel better. Nothing happened. Wednesday afternoon, I started coughing. Wednesday night, I felt feverish.

Thursday morning, I stayed home from work and went in only to teach a lab. I thought about asking my advisor (who teaches the lecture counterpart of the course) to take over for me, but he's not one for excuses. Being that I was upright and could drive, I figured he wouldn't be all that sympathetic. During lab I was so wrecked that I wanted to crawl under a table and take a nap, but the students in the class were so pleasantly determined, enthusiastic, and interested in what was an admittedly challenging set of activities that I rallied and tried to meet their level of energy. Did that happen? Not exactly. I sensed that they were taking some pity on me. I must have looked like roadkill by that point.

I slept for a total of maybe three hours on Thursday night and by sunrise I could barely sit up in bed. I ended up working from home and took frequent rest/nap breaks. Normally I'd feel guilty for not going to work, but I realized that I was in absolutely no shape to get behind the wheel, drive 20 minutes on the highway, and communicate with people in a functional manner. Plus I would have passed on this flu to my colleagues.

I'm still feeling exhausted today. I'm also dizzy, but I think that has more to do with me forgetting to take my Zoloft yesterday and this morning (classic symptom of antidepressant withdrawal, according to The Google). Hopefully I'll continue on this upswing and be ready to get back to work, running, and more energetic mothering come Monday morning.

All that said? It does drive me crazy to not be able to do what I want to do, especially run. But I know from past experience that if I try to run while I'm still congested, this thing is just going to drag on.

I did have enough energy to make something yummy and healthy for today's lunch: a spicy carrot-bean-garlic soup. It's a spinoff on one of Marlow's recipes over at Gluten Hates Me (I love that blog - go check it out, even if gluten loves you. She has great recipes.)

I heated oil in a saute pan and added 1/4 an onion and two cloves of garlic. When they were soft (~5 minutes), I added a few handfuls of chopped spinach, a can of garbanzo beans, and ~1/4 cup black beans, stirring occasionally until they were warm.

I also added several dashes of cayenne. Anything to help clear my sinuses.

Once the bean/spinach mixture was hot, I poured in one box of Trader Joe's carrot-ginger soup and let the whole concoction simmer on medium heat until it was steaming. I LOVE this soup. It's delicious - tasty, but not salty or overpoweringly ginger-y.

The result:

I've already had three bowls. Moderation is not my strong suit. But then again, don't they say to feed an illness? I can handle that.

While recovering, I'm reading triathlete Chrissie Wellington's book A Life Without Limits. It is truly inspiring. Of the three running-related books I read this summer - the others being those by Rich Roll and Scott Jurek - I think this is my favorite. Although it's about her life and accomplishments, it's also clearly about the reader. It's making me think about my own perceived limits and the importance of testing them, seeing how far back I can push them.

Her take on rest and recovery: "The idea of rest flies in the face of every value I have lived my life by. I should be the last person to preach downtime, having indulged in so little of it during my life before triathlon, but I am fully converted now. I realize it is not the actual sessions of swim, bike and run that make you fitter, it is the periods you spend recovering in between, during which your body adapts and regenerates. That's why I say I train 24/7 - recovery is training. It's the most important part of it, in fact."

Well okay then. If Chrissie says so, I will go back to sitting on the couch.

Seven miles, students, and Steve Jobs

Yesterday I ran seven miles, the farthest I've run in at least a year or two. My lungs felt good throughout; my legs got kind of rusty at the end. But I finished feeling more refreshed than tired. It helped that I was running outside. The weather was perfect - sunny, cool, breezy - and the falling/blowing leaves made it all the more invigorating. Today I kept it simple and followed up with a three-mile walk on the treadmill.

As I walked, I thought about my students. I've been teaching college students in some capacity for the better part of 10 years. When I started out, I was only a year or two older than the seniors. It didn't take much to intimidate me. I worried about whether they liked me, whether they thought I was lame, whether my classes were "fun" enough.

This is the first year where I look at my students and think, "They're so young." When I'm around them, I don't feel old, per se, but I see how I have changed in the last decade as an instructor. I feel more comfortable in the role, more capable. If they act out, I don't take it personally. I see their insecurities, their worries, and their frustrations. I see their creativity and their unique way of approaching problems. I think they are all incredibly smart and talented, though in different ways. And I really like each and every one of them. This semester I got lucky with my class: no-one whines (or if they do, they're smart enough to whine out of earshot of me), and they work hard enough.

I thought of them, and me, and life in general, when I read part of Steve Jobs' 2005 commencement address to Stanford graduates (I know he talks a lot about death here, but this quote is really about life): "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart... Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."