But secretly I am acknowledging that I just don't feel so good. I had planned to run this morning, was really, truly looking forward to it as I was going to go to my neighborhood track. It was supposed to be -- and turned out to be -- the perfect Northwest running weather; cool and overcast but DRY. I had just reloaded my iPod with a new mix of songs and was hopeful that the damn thing would start working correctly again.
I was sluggish last night but got to bed at a good hour and fell asleep quickly. CBS got me up a couple of times to let her out (I'll take getting up in the middle of the night over a bed full of dog pee any day), the last time being 6:00 a.m. I went back to bed figuring I'd get up in a couple of hours at my normal time, then go for a run.
Next thing I know, it's almost noon and I feel like I'm reluctantly coming out of a coma. Little appetite and my eyes are at half mast with that "I just inhaled all the dust from emptying the vacuum cleaner bag" feeling, no matter what I do. I'm not even all that thirsty. I had to come into work today so I still couldn't go running. My head thinks running was a great idea but my body isn't cooperating; complete reverse of the usual. Now I'm at work, wondering if we have any toothpicks I can use to prop up my eyelids. I feel as if I were to lay back down I'd be out in seconds for another twelve hours.
I hope that between now and Monday I can nip this thing in the bud. Kick it in the sac, whatever. I will not be sick.