As the heavy-metal band of scholar-gentlemen Disturbed said, I'm officially 'Down with the sickness.' Woke up on Wednesday night with a sore throat, and it has become progressively worse until tonight. I would not be suprised if I started hemorraghing blood and limbs started falling off at this point. Leprosy ain't got shit on the common cold when you haven't been sick in years.
So the big race is on Saturday. Is feeling under the weather a valid excuse for under-performance? Hell no. Other competitors had to work 50 hour weeks, or deal with constant shrill noisemakers also known as children. My life revolves around eating a lot, sleeping more, and occasionally solving crimes with my equally food-fond dog. Yes, I am actually Shaggy from Scooby-Doo (with less overt marijuana references).
Now it is time to rest up and take some shots. Not drug shots, but actual shot-glasses full of Nyquil. I'm actually writing this under the influence. Therefore, anything I say cannot be attributed to me under sane mind in a court of law. So...Slumdog Millionaire was a terrible movie, not all soldiers are heroes, and flying on a plane scares me. I actually bargained with the plane-gods that if I didn't move during takeoff, nothing bad would happen. I peed my pants a little as the wheels lifted. I'm committed.
Wed: 8 miles
Thurs: 10 min super easy
Ugh. Terrible and terrible. I think I have the Plague, the Pox, or possibly Angina. I don't know what any of those entail, but they all sound pretty badass. "The Plague, the Pox, and Angina" will be the name of my all-star death metal band. Much cooler than Disturbed.