ORN: This morning, I ran seven miles in 1:13'38". This is amazing if you consider that I spent the majority of the previous three days in bed. I don't know what strain of plague I had, but it sucked. I had a skull-splitting headache for three solid days. Consider also the fatigue, lightheadedness, hot-and-cold fever-stuff, and hard-to-manage hair: I haven't had the best week ever. I treated my affliction with my never-fail home remedy: hibernation. I slept and slept until I felt better. And what do you know? This morning, I awoke and felt great. I had planned an interval workout [1x1000, 1x2000, 2x1000] but chose not to push my luck. Instead, I ran seven hilly miles at a comfortably earnest pace -- not tempo pace, but not easy either.
It wasn't just me. The whole family was sick. We were all down with different misfortunes. Wifey was diagnosed with bronchitis, and I'm counting my lucky stars I didn't catch that. I hate bronchitis. Little One had a bad cough too, but she pulled through without needing a trip to the doctor. Now, I'm thinking we ought to burn all our sheets and night clothes -- just to be sure this crap doesn't come back. Summer colds suck.
What especially sucked about being sick was that the weather, lately, has been almost perfect for running. It's been unseasonably cool in the mornings and moderately warm and breezy in the afternoons. I think one morning it was down below 50°. Oh well. I mustn't complain. I only missed one workout; I am thankful I only missed the one.
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