In which I admit that I might not finish the Half Marathon

I signed up for the VA Beach Half Marathon in April. I knew training would start at the end of June and I was ready. 2 weeks before my 30th birthday, I was going to cross that finish line, running a Half Marathon, without the need to stop and walk.

It was a great, attainable, pre-30th goal.

And I was training. I didn't miss one training run. Running 4 times a week had a hit on my social life, took a toll on my friendships. Weeknights were no longer my own. Volleyball league was given up. But I WAS going to finish it.

Sunday, my parents arrived in the country, and I proudly announced how on Saturday I ran a total of 11 miles -- 8 miles in my training run in the morning, then 3 miles that night at the Crystal City Twilighter 5k, beating my time last year by 4 minutes. They met the boy a couple of hours before dinner (it went great!).

My sister was making a chicken and broccoli casserole, with a creamy sauce. We were starving. It was finally ready.

I was sitting by the table, when she removed the casserole from the oven and said "I don't think it's ready" my mom countered "it is ready" I looked through the glass dish that was now a few inches from me and proclaimed "I can see it bubbling" and just then, it slipped out of my sister's hand and the contents of the dish landed on my lap, a few inches below my skirt.

I got up quickly, and screamed. A very much primal scream. I was in agony. Everyone urged me to the cold shower, where while rubbing it with ice, I could see the humongous blisters forming.

My sister was in tears in the kitchen, while my brother in law decided to call an ambulance, to be on the safe side.

The paramedics arrived, and when they saw the blisters on my lower thigh going down my knee, they immediately asked to take me to the hospital to treat my 2nd degree burns.

My Sunday night was spent in the hospital. As soon as I got in, they started pumping meds through the IV. Anti-nausea medication, anti-inflammatory, and a pain reliever ("like morphine, but stronger" said the nurse).

The anti-nausea medication didn't work, so I needed another dose of it.

The doctor was finally ready to treat the burns. Do you know how doctors treat burns? By scrubbing off, with a wet gauze, all the blisters and the dead skin. You know, when you're trying to get stubborn stain out of your t-shirt? Yeah, just like that.

Needless to say, the pain medication wasn't enough. The nurse pumped more of it through the IV. Then I needed more anti-nausea medication.

This is what being high feels like.

Unfortunately, the second dose of pain medication still was not enough: when the doctor came back to finish rubbing off the blisters and dead skin, the pain was just as unbearable the second time around. My dad, who had followed the ambulance with the boy, claimed I almost broke his hand off.

Finally, at almost midnight, I was being discharged. My biggest concern to the doctor? "How soon can I run?" he said as soon as it's not too painful to do so. Having no pain at the time, I thought I could pick training back up in a couple of days.

On my way out of the hospital the nurse catches me and said she forgot to give me a tetanus shot. I lift my shirt sleeve up, and she gets it done.

I could barely walk, I was so out of it from all the meds. Got home, emailed work that I couldn't be in the morning, and went to bed.

Now it's Thursday and I still haven't made it to work. The medication knocks me out most of the day. The pain is excruciating, I'm on 4 different prescription meds, plus a prescription cream. I can only walk with a limp. Twice a day, I'm supposed to wash the burn with soap and water completely removing the cream, and that only makes the pain much worse.

The burn is supposed to be covered until the scabbing is gone. Of course, no scabs yet, so who knows when I can finally walk normally.

We're a month away from the Half Marathon, a month and a half to my 30th.

I highly doubt I'll be able to run anytime soon. And that one goal I had before 30? Well, it's getting further and further away from my reach.