Kittens, I rolled out of bed this morning and yes, I did The Yoga.
But no, I did not feel better in any sense of the word.
Which would explain the Ziploc baggie in my purse that is stuffed full of Sudafed, Those Awesome Mentholyptus Cough Drops That Kill Your Appetite Dead and some sort of Target brand emergenC or whatever that stuff is called.
After hustling over to a post-work doctor’s appointment, rocking a temperature of 97.4 and being informed that while I may feel like hell, I am NOT antibiotics-sick, I was released into the wild.
The Doctor is a marathoner and he told me that as long as I wasn’t coughing (I have some extremely casual asthma), I was good to go with the whole running-thing.
I interpreted this to mean that since I haven’t been dedicating my efforts to coughing today, I could probably sneak a run in.
Which is really great, right? I have to train. The beat goes on and all of that.
Except for the fact that by the time I was wrapping up my regular loop, I had completely lost my voice, was coughing up a lung and felt like my head was going to explode.
All together now: DO NOT WANT
There really is no moral of tonight’s story except to say that I took one step forward and two giant steps back.
At this point, nothing sounds more appealing than bed, so I think I’m going to excuse myself to go pop a few more pills and action some hardcore restorative sleep.
Do you think that four day weeks are easier to get through or harder?
Generally speaking, I think that they tend to drag and there’s not a lot of work to be done. But this week has just blown by for me. Has it been a struggle? Yes. The fact that tomorrow is Friday is nothing less than a small miracle.