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This past week I was all set to put the pedal to the metal and start down the road to getting back in proper shape for my upcoming fall races. I’ve got about six weeks before the Big Cottonwood half marathon drops in Salt Lake City and a lot of work to do.

Apparently somebody forgot to send my body the memo.

Last Friday I woke up and began the first measure of the “Coughing Concerto,” which consisted of me hacking, wheezing, sneezing, sniffling and groaning.

It was quite the symphony of suck.

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I skipped working out that day and figured I’d rest and be better in time to go for a long run on Saturday.




Monday surely?

No way Josè.

This stuff just couldn’t take a hint that it had worn out its welcome.

Not only was I feeling rather icky, I had some weight in my chest, leading me to believe it was a chest cold as opposed to just hay fever or allergies. And I followed the old adage: Read the rest of this entry

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