Hello, Monday. Good Thing I Took Care of Myself All Day Sunday....But Still Got Sick.

I'm waking up today hoping that the ugh I went to bed with is illusionary, and a part of my active imagination. I don't want to get sick and I never like to feel tired. Yesterday, I got up early and prepared for a long run, did a long run, then sat in my house working off the adrenaline on my laptop and in preparation for the week.

Then I got cold. Really cold. I knew I needed a hot shower as soon as possible. When I got out, the cough was there. So was the exhaustion.

No. No. No. No. No.

We did make it out to get coffee for the morning and Sriracha sauce (you never know when you will need Sriracha sauce). Lucky for us, too, the store with the cheapest Sriracha sauce is by Pam's and she made us a home-made beef potpie. It tasted great, but didn't make my throat, nose and chest feel any better.

Ginger ale. Ginger ale. Ginger ale.

Hot tea. Hot tea. Hot tea.

And I wish I could say: rest, rest, rest.

That's impossible until this week is over (unless it becomes impossible and then I will throw in the towel).

I will never understand how I can wake up, feel great, go for a fantastic run, and then at the snap of a finger I'm congested, crusty and achy. I thought running in below 30 temperatures would kill any of the Mucinex monsters trying to find their place inside my rib cage.

Bastards.

The calendar is not my friend today. I'm lined up from the second I post this blog until 8 p.m. tonight. Then I need to plan for Tuesday.

Okay, here ends Crandall's pity party.

I will feel good. I will feel good. I will feel good.