Whack!

Friday morning there was a rawness to my throat. I knew what that meant, even before my nose started running. Saturday morning brought a steady drip like a broken faucet. Sunday dawned with the same, only more so. Power levels and heart rate on the bike showed my body was fighting something, and had little energy left to spin the pedals. Sunday night the aches and chills started. Maybe this wasn't a case of the sniffles after all.
  
I got on the bike Monday morning, ready to bang out an easy ride to herald the arrival of recovery week. I got off an hour later, drenched in sweat and barely able to walk. I went to work, then came home a few hours later after spending a good bit of time suffering though chills with my forehead on my desk.
  
Tuesday I doubled up, except I didn't bother with the bike.
  
Wednesday morning I went to the doctor, who called me an idiot (and Typhoid Mary). Then she loaded me up with pills and sent me home for a couple days.
  
I think the vaccine they shot into my arm this year missed this particular strain. Nobody else in the house is sick (yet), so I'm wondering where I picked it up.
  
I'm going to try to play it smart and just let this thing run its course before I start training again. Since I'm on a recovery week, it's not like I was doing anything significant anyway. Rest up and hit it again when the coast is clear.
  
Chances are that I'll screw it up and push too hard, too soon. I'll prolong this junk for far too long, and my body will revolt. That's just how I roll.

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