After four days down with what was either the flu or a VERY nasty cold, I wouldn't exactly say that I feel good. But I guess I feel good enough. Certainly good enough that NOT working would have been some kind of at least minor malingering. So I'm off to the City amidst a backdrop of icy snow, sleet, and freezing rain, hoping against hope that Sally somehow avoids getting sick after having taken care of me all weekend. Huzzah!
The good news, I suppose, is that it's already Wednesday, so at this point all I have to do is survive the next three days, and it'll be the weekend. I can survive three days--I'm almost perfectly sure.
Also, being that it's Wednesday, we have Tri Club practice tonight, so I suppose that I have to decide over the course of the day if I'm gonna swim tonight or not. And the answer to that is that, yeah, I probably will, but I doubt it'll be anybody's idea of beautiful or strenuous swimming. Still, I suppose that if I'm gonna put my stroke back together by May, I may as well start taking my baby steps sooner rather than later, and anyway, who knows? Maybe a few easy laps swimming will wind up being just what the doctor ordered.
Or maybe that'll put me back on my ass. After all, it was just a four-and-a-half mile run that put me down in the first place.
Nah. That couldn't happen twice, right?
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