Hack. Wretch. Snort. Rrrrrrr...acccckkk--(spit).
Such are the festive sounds of the holiday season around the Harris Household this week. We are playing host to "the-cold-that-wouldn't-die." Blair is going on two weeks of sore throat and coughing. I came down with it on Tuesday, rallied on Thursday, then admitted defeat yesterday and slunk off to bed. The heartbreaking part of being sick, of course, is that our taste buds are deadened and while we typically celebrate for 72 hours the glorious carbfest known to others as "Thanksgiving," this year we had 2 meals and threw most of the leftovers out.
We did manage yesterday to pull out the Christmas trees and decorate the house, and I have about half the holiday cards addressed. But for the most part we've spent the last four days comatose on the couch, watching bad TV and getting headaches from lack of movement.
I forced myself on the treadmill yesterday and although it's the last thing on earth I feel like doing, will have to do the same today. The half-marathon is in 13 days! Thirteen days and I have totally slacked off these last two weeks. If I can put in at least 5 miles a day with a two longer runs thrown in, I might survive. My biggest worry at this point is the cold weather. I'm not used to running in the cold and it does make a difference in breathing and stamina. But with my ears already plugged up and ringing, I don't really want to go outside and run, even though it is supposed to be a stunning 69 degrees today.
So just wanted to check in and note that we're still here, although our breath smells of cough syrup and the cats have come to take it for granted that we have forsworn showering and any of our other normal grooming patterns. It's back to work tomorrow so we're going to take full advantage of napping today.
There's plenty of bad TV out there and I aim to take advantage of it.