On Monday, I said to myself, “Gee, it’s been a while since I’ve been sick. Nifty!*”
Predictably, by Tuesday evening I was running a fever and wishing I owned a bottle brush so I could scratch the living daylights out of my increasingly-itchy throat. I shot a note to my professors to let them know that I would probably not be in class on Wednesday, and I wasn’t. In fact, except for the occasional trip to the bathroom or the kitchen, I spent Wednesday in bed.
Since then, though I (perhaps foolishly) somehow put in 17 miles on Thursday (and was then sent home from my Behavioral Modification class because apparently I looked rather like death warmed over), I’ve mostly been at home, coughing and resting and wishing for, at very least, a nice fat pipe cleaner. I think I am starting to come ’round. My throat is still itchy (ridiculously so, at times), but the headache and fever have abated and the icky post-nasal goop seems to be dwindling. Since things seem to be getting better on their own, I’ve decided to try letting this run its course.
This hasn’t been the best timing for Death March training, but it could be worse. First, I’m doing well enough mileage-wise for the month. Second, I have a couple weeks to get back on form, so to speak.
I am still going to go hit up our planned Death March recon ride tomorrow. It’s the only chance we’ve got to preview the course, and I really need to put the Tricross through a solid gravel shakedown while I have time to make and road-test any updates.
*I don’t sound quite so “Golden Age of Television” in real life, mostly. Also, I often have just this sort of thought right before I come down with something nasty — I’ve decided that I must notice on some level that I’m trying to fight something off. In the future, I’m going to attempt to use this “spidey-sense” to proactively approach managing and recovering from illness.