After three lumbers and 17+ miles this week, I was handed a bag full of warm feecus in the form of a mystery illness that knocked me flat on my ass late afternoon Wednesday, and as of Friday morning, it’s still knocking.
What started as some mild post-nasal drip reminiscent of some spring allergies had every inch of my skin hurting by late afternoon Wednesday, and I found myself in bed under roughly five blankets, trying to stay warm by 8 PM.
Finally about 4 AM, I woke up drenched in sweat, and while I was still a little achy and coughing from some leftover nasal drip, I felt way better than the night before. Not great, but better.
On Thursday morning, after I woke up to feed Lola *snort* *snort* *snort*, I sat in my office for a few minutes trying to pretend I was fine and thinking about a potential lumber but eventually said fuck it, and went back to The Bed of Torment for a couple more hours of pseudo rest before waking to take the longest, hottest, shower in the history of long, hot showers.
Now, here we are Friday morning, and things still aren’t great: random sweats, chills, and aches are still aiming to keep a brother down.
No lumbers, no rides, no runs, no photos, no nothin’. Thank goodness I have no appetite, or I’d be on my way to pushing maximum density.
I really wish I would have got flu and COVID shots. No, no, I don’t have an Old White Guy Conspiracy Theory about vaccines; I’m just lazy—and now, very sick!
Later.