Headcold got me good. Sleeping, tea-drinking, broth-sipping, mouth-breathing, that's been my week. So wretched was I that it felt like I'd caught a man-cold:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbmbMSrsZVQ&feature=player_detailpage
Poor little bunny.
There are times when running while sick can shake off the germs and rev up the immune system. That hasn't been an option this week, as climbing the stairs to my quarters leaves me feeling breathless and a little Victorian; smelling salts should be on hand. So while I recover my strength like Heidi's Clara, I will need to reconsider my running plans. Chances are I could still run the May half-marathon in the same time that I ran October's race, but the goal is to run a sub-2, and I don't see that happening now. There is another race on June 26th, which would give me an extra 8 weeks of training. Methinks yes to this.
At the suggestion of my scholar friend, Lady K, I'm off to procure some Madeira wine, which works wonders for all those British literary invalids of old, and is so much more elegant than Robitussin.
That video is AWESOME! oh man...laughing out loud at working :)
ReplyDeleteTake care of yourself and get some smelling salts!
I'm just getting plain old wine...but I'll think of you :)
ReplyDeleteI've decided that Madeira wine won't be strong enough. Not with your delicate constitution. If you plan to hold the consumption at bay, you simply must head to Scotland. See, you thought I was going to say Italy, but that's just a terrible misunderstanding. Keats died of consumption (also, possibly TB) in Rome. Had he stayed home in the UK, he'd have been fine.
ReplyDeleteHi Jane, sorry to read that...
ReplyDeletebut don't worry too much. I also stopped running for a while (like a month!) and thought I could start all over. Contrary was true: I run without any difficulties just because bones and muscles have had a good rest.