Digging Myself Out Of A Hole.

It took six days of inactivity to wipe away a month of work.
  
All of that steady progress, and a case of the sniffles (and body aches and hacking coughing fits and...) knocked me back on my ass.
 
Now I'm just trying to start climbing back to a reasonable level for this time of year.
 
If I really think about it, getting sick in January is much better than getting sick in March or April. Ever since I first welcomed the germ monsters into my home, I get hit with one plague a year. If this is it, and I have a string of reasonable health running up to race season, I'll be happy.
 
It doesn't do much for the motivation, though. Seeing hours of sweat negated that quickly never is. I know in reality that the impact is less significant than the squiggly lines might indicate, but I tend to latch onto whatever stimuli I can to motivate myself to crawl out of bed early in the morning. Squiggly lines that have some abstract correlation to performance are as good a carrot as any, I guess.
 
It's not like I can count on winning races as some sort of gauge.

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