I haven't run for four days.
Four days, people.
Not only have I not run, I haven't swum, biked, worked out or so much as lowered myself into plank position.
I have been sick with a ghastly cold that is so clever that, just when I think I finally have it kicked, it slyly turns up the volume and slams me with a bout of coughing so strong and wicked I end up I slumped on the couch, sweaty and breathless.
(But wait! Coughing can be counted as ab work, no?)
I am in an evil mood. I can barely stand myself. Earlier tonight I decided that this all MM's fault. I tried to tell him, too. I wanted to yell and scream, hurl accusations and blame but alas, since I had lost my voice hours before nothing came out but a squeak. So I retired to the couch, coughed and worked on my abs.
I have been popping Emergen-C packets like crazy. Heck, I think I'd snort them if they didn't make me sneeze. I took five today. The back of the box advises to take no more than two. I hope I don't die of an overdose. That would be embarrassing.
|My drug of choice.|
I haven't run for four days yet by not running I realize how thankful I am that I can run, that I am healthy and live in a country and environment that allows me to follow my heart and passions. That is no small thing. Many people spend their whole lives searching for their passions. I've managed to find two, running and writing.
But enough of the sappy talk. It's getting late and I'm going to take my sixth dose of Emergen-C of the day, put in a strong set of coughing, brush my teeth and take my box of tissues to bed.
As Judy Garland once sang, there's always tomorrow. (I wonder if I could beat the Scarecrow in a marathon?)
|Definitely not a heel striker.|
'Night, everyone. Hope you don't catch this nasty bug. (If you need some Emergen-C I can sell you some real cheap, hee, hee.)