I had COVID-19 symptoms, and it’s the sickest I’ve ever been.
On Saturday, March 7, I won a 5K race in Mount Berry, Georgia. It was my fastest finish since college; my time, 20:11, was nothing fancy for me, but after years away from competitive running, it was fun to feel fit again—and to win.
Later that night, I went to hot yoga. As I laid down in class, the woman next to me started coughing. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s just asthma.”
Though COVID-19 was just beginning to spread through the United States, I had no idea it was in Atlanta, where I was visiting my boyfriend. It seemed absurd that this woman in hot yoga was worried about the virus.
The next day, I cruised through eight miles and did 10 pull-ups at the park for fun. The day after, I ran another eight miles and felt good.