I have the cold that will not go away.
I was all prepared to blame this on an embryo, sucking the lifeblood and vitality out of me mere days after it attached to my uterine wall. But since I can’t blame my kid-to-be for this (yet — watch it, m’ij@), I guess I just have the world’s most persistent cold.
After last week’s seeming triumph over said cold, I ran a couple of times, then headed out on Sunday for my training run. It was a perfect six miles, if a little slow — I’ve made a buddy in the group and was having fun chatting with her. It was cold, but I expertly bundled. My breathing was measured and the only thing I did was do the last half at about a tempo pace (my buddy said she needed to slow down, so I took off with her blessing). Still, I felt good.
However, on Sunday afternoon, the scratch in my throat started to return. My nose started to run again. And that downtrodden feeling reared its ugly head once more. Here it is, Tuesday, and it’s still holding on.
It’d been a while since a cold had gotten to me, though. I had a good run. Even a cold that threatened to ruin my Christmas vacation petered out with little damage. But this one really likes me, for some reason.
Off to battle with my comrades rest, vitamin C, Cold-Eeze, Robitussin, and water at my side.