Well, I survived.
Kasey and I ran from the Bentonville Square to the Pleasant Grove Walmart and back.
It was brutal, but with only four Saturdays left before race day, I really only had two options:
1) run while sick, or 2) don't get an 18 miler in at all.
I chose to do it, because I'd rather hate a training run, than be unprepared on race day.
And while I'm glad I stuck it out and powered through, I definitely felt every single mile in every corner of my fevered, aching body.
I did make a few crucial mistakes:
1) No sunscreen. Duh! Antibiotics + 4 hours in the sun on a beautiful day = a pretty good burn.
2) While stopped at an intersection, a car passed with a dog in the front seat that looked just like this little guy.

I don't know why, but I thought it was hilarious. I spent a couple good minutes laughing hysterically at the ugly little dog with "the cone of shame" on it's head.
I even did the voice of the dog from UP "I do not like the cone of shame!" hahahahaha!
Oh karma.
Shortly after I got up this morning, I jerked my head to the left to say something to Corbin, who was standing by my bed.
As I did this, I felt a sharp snap in my upper shoulder/lower neck.
Pop.
Pain.
Whoa! SEARING pain.
I am now in a neck brace.
It's hot, baby.
Aaron, obviously, thinks this is hilarious and laughs hysterically when I have to turn my entire body to talk to him. He is sitting to the left of me on the sofa tonight, and I swear he is purposely making up questions to ask me, just for the comic relief it provides to watch me sit up and turn my entire body to face him, because I can't see him.
So now, in addition to Strep Throat, a fever that STILL will not go below 99.5, a bladder infection, and a crisp sunburn, I wear a cone of shame.
I feel like an angry old lady that is falling apart.

So how am I handling it?
Let's be real:
Tonight, the kids were acting super crazy and kept fighting with each other. I was helping Reese finish a school project, Quincy refused to put on underwear and was running around naked, and Corbin had climbed up on the table to get the scissors, but found a marker instead and used it to draw all over himself.
Aaron was aware of only Quincy, and only because she kept turning off the tv.
"hey Aaron, can you give me a hand in here? Aaron? Anyone? Beuler?"
What is happening here?
Aaron is an excellent father....but that guy in there, in the living room. That was not Aaron. It was some guy that was very concerned about a bunch of "seeds".
Seed?
Doh!
It's that time of year. I should have known. Of course.
March Madness.
My ailments ain't got NOTHIN' on Aaron's case of March Madness.
It truly is the worst illness that can strike a household.
Symptoms include:
-extremely crazy children become invisible
-very important games = every game
-constant texts and friday night phone calls from brothers and college buddies
-mysterious appearance of nacho cheese and onion dip in the fridge
-your shows will not air a new episode this week or next. Instead, there will be basketball games on 24/7
-a "romantic getaway" will be proposed, but do not be deceived. This is only a plot to get him closer to the Elite Eight. I find it best to do a little research and find out where all the NCAA games will take place, first, so I can call him on his ruse and then earn cool points for going along with it anyway.
-words like "seed", "upset", and "bracket" become parts of every day speech.
-they think taking pictures like this are funny, even after you threaten to put it on the internet for everyone to see. And then continue to laugh even after you guarantee that everyone will agree with ME (the girl in the neck brace, mopping the kitchen floor) that this is sooo not funny at all.
{not pictured: the funny guy with the camera}
This year he has an exceptionally rare and highly infectious form of March Madness, which seems to circulate once every fazillion years when BYU actually pulls together a decent enough team to make it past the first round in the big dance.
WARNING: There is no cure for March Madness.
In the midst of tonight's chaos, Corbin dumped my apple juice all over the kitchen floor (then slipped in it) and Quincy knocked a big wodden stacking toy off a shelf and it landed square on my bad toe.
I lost it.
Time to pull out the big guns.
I glanced over at Aaron and gave him with the look.
You know. The look that every wife swears she never makes, because it makes her seem controlling and needy and psychotic.
The "SERIOUSLY? Do you not SEE what is happening here? DO something!" look.
I learned two things from using "the look" tonight.
1) The look is no match for a #3 seed...especially when delivered from within the Cone of Shame.
2)This isn't just any case of March Madness,
Aaron's been Jimmered.
Instead of the cartoon old lady pictured above, I'm starting to feel more and more like this one:
A Mean Meg version of Falling Apart Old Lady Meg.
No one likes Mean Meg.
Send help soon.
I do not like the cone of shame.