Mile 1317. I am a survivor.

I am a survivor.

At mile 300 in Tennessee, I survived norovirus.  I bounced back and kept climbing those mountains.  The dramatic scenes of VomitFest now are a distant nightmare.

At mile 900 in Virginia, I survived a miserable head cold that settled into my chest.  I bounced back to log my biggest mileage days.  It feels like it never happened.

At mile 1200 in Pennsylvania, I survived a threatening tendonitis that was developing in my left foot.  I bounced back to conquer those rocks like a boss.  While my feet still are constantly sore, red-flag-soreness has disappeared.

And – now – at mile 1300 in New Jersey, I will survive this Canadian-fire-induced asthma exacerbation that has moved into bronchitis.  I will bounce back.  And this also will be a distant memory.

With minor exceptions, smoke from the fires in Canada have been a non-issue during this Appalachian Trail adventure.

Until now.

While statues of liberty have not been disappearing, air quality in northern Pennsylvania and New Jersey have turned the setting sun into an orange ball; and horizons are missing three layers of normally-seen mountain ranges.  It’s just enough.  For me.

Since childhood, I’ve had tender lungs.  At 5 years, I was admitted to the hospital for an asthma exacerbation.  While I‘ve outgrown asthma for the most part, it still comes to visit during high intensity aerobic exercise.  After every IRONMAN competition, I could count on bronchospasm for at least two weeks.  And most innocent colds result in bronchitis, often taking months to fully recover after often-multiple rounds of steroids and antibiotics wreak havoc on my body.

I’m lucky to be staying with a supportive friend at her cottage by the lake.  My job now is to sleep, eat, sleep, eat, and sleep some more.

I am Phoenix Rising.

I will survive.  I will bounce back.  And this also will be a distant memory.

I’ve got things to do!