I was keeping up with my running just fine until Tuesday, when the Big Red Bus came to my office. My veins weren't big enough for a double-red-cells donation, so I just gave a regular pint. (I asked how to help those veins grow; they said, "Water." Shoot, I don't drink anything else. And I drink loads. If I try to increase my intake, my veins might grow big enough, but the blood will be too dilute!)
I skipped Wednesday's run, since they warn you not to do anything strenuous for 24 hours. I went out this morning, imagining my triumphant post to this blog detailing my 30-minute run only two days after donating blood.
I kept to an easy pace. Three klicks later, I was feeling just fine (insofar as that's possible while running). Then I went up a little hill. I found myself gasping at the top.
Trouble breathing constitutes a failure under my "5K, 30 minutes, or failure" policy. I took the nearest shortcut home.
As a result, I only got 22 minutes of running today.
And lots of water, of course!




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