An open letter to illness


I know I know I know. I haven’t written a blog in a long time. School started, I was traveling, I was tired. There’s no excuse (my mom has reminded me as much). Another reason I haven’t written: I’m sick.

It’s the end of the season and I’m sure that most blogs are abound with last minute notes and reviews, nostalgic words and memories, beautiful photos, ect. ect. ect. Don’t worry, that’s coming on this blog (it’s gonna be big), but first, I have a bone to pick.

Dear cold and flu viruses: Things are getting awkward and I think that it’s time we talked about it. In all honesty, you’re getting a little stalker-y. I know that you’ve wanted to be a part of the ski community for some time now, as you’ve made your presence known many times in seasons past, but at the moment, it’s getting to be a little much.

I get it, I bet you’re feeling pretty loved right now. You’re attending dinners at nearly every team’s house, making it to breakfast the next morning and even sleeping between some of the ski community’s favorite couples. It took you the entire season to climb the Nordic world’s social ladder and now you’re all anyone can talk about. That must feel nice.

Here’s the thing. You weren’t exactly invited. Don’t take offense, it’s not like people aren’t thinking about you. You’re pretty much always on our minds when we’re traveling or eating in public places. When my roommates sniffle or sneeze, you’re the first thing I think of, even when she does it because of dust.

What’s tough is that just because we’re thinking of you, doesn’t necessarily mean we want you around all the time, especially at the final races of the season.

I think that we got our signals crossed somewhere, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to talk to you about it. Like, that time in Slovenia when we spent the morning in bed together would have been better. But timing’s never been my strong suit. I guess it’s not yours either. And when you showed up last night expecting to just hop into bed with me like nothing was wrong, like you hadn’t just been with all of my teammates, I couldn’t believe it.

The truth is, you’re just not that fun. And no one likes you. We put up with you because you’re, like, ALWAYS around, but you’re needy and time consuming and honestly a huge energy suck. You linger longer than we would like and while every once in a while you give us a break from our otherwise stressful lifestyle, the fact that you decided to show up at Spring Series and try to hang out with everyone is a real chafe.

[It doesn’t even make sense. From your point of view, there are so many other places you could be right now. It’s SPRING BREAK. You could be in the cesspool that is Cabo, swirling around with kids who actually want to stay in bed until noon, but you chose to be here. Who does that?!]

I can’t wrap my head around you, and maybe that’s why we’re just not compatible as friends. I think it would be easier on all of us if we just went our separate ways, you to Cabo, me to the start line, and forgot about this little snafu.

I know that this is harsh, but everyone’s been talking about you behind your back and sometimes it’s just better to be direct.


And no, you’re not invited to the Spring Series party.

Great. Good talk. I feel better already.


2 thoughts on “An open letter to illness

  1. LOVE your conversation with Mr. Cold! We ALL need to have one of these talks with him!! He is certainly obnoxious isn’t he?!?!? Hope you are feelin’ back to yourself now!!! Love ya Annie P

  2. Dear Virus – Remember me, my name is Linda and I came to Spring Nationals to cheer on Annie from the sidelines. I did not invite you to invade my chest and lungs, I guess it was that car ride with Annie and meeting her teammates that sealed our unintended friendship. Annie says you followed them all around Europe, personally I think you came from Kazakhstan (those guards were not doing their job). Anyhow, you are welcome to move on at anytime as I am not enjoying our friendship at all. LG

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