Sick of Being Sick

This is so ridiculous as to be redonkulous. It's three weeks and counting with this cold, and nearly a week of pinkeye. The latter seems to have abated somewhat, but I still wake up with junky eyes.

Thursday I went to the doctor, who told me to stop running for awhile. He wanted me to be up and about, taking walks, etc. so as not to get pneumonia, but said my body needed more rest than running would afford it.

So I dutifully took Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off. For Sunday, I had a friend lined up to watch the Cricket while I did an 8-mile run. On Friday the friend told me she couldn't do it because she was sick and might be contagious. No problem. I happened to mention it to a coworker, who volunteered to babysit in her place. Great! She agreed to come over at 9:30 Sunday morning so I could run.

Sunday morning rolled around and the phone rang at 8. It was my coworker, sounding as if she'd been hit by a truck, calling to say she'd come down with a cold and couldn't babysit.

To me, two babysitters falling through was a sign from God that I shouldn't run. Maybe I just didn't feel like it, but after all, I'm tapering, so the critical work is already behind me. Missing one more run couldn't hurt.

To make up for it, I took the Cricket on a nice long walk (in something called "sunshine," a phenomenon I had heard about but never actually witnessed here in Seattle).

So even though Mondays are "off" days, according to my training schedule, I'm going to go to the gym at lunch to run a couple of miles and do a core workout. Not sure what the scale will say, but I'll try to forgive myself.

In the meantime, I won't be straying far from the Kleenex box.