I seem to get sick a lot. A lot. Sometimes I think my blog is more about me whining about being sick then anything else. Particularly in the winter months.
So, when I arrived home from my vacation feeling fabulous, motivated, and ready to train my butt off, I decided to ignore the fact that I also knew I had caught a cold. It wasn't really a surprise. My husband had it when we left for vacation, my son had it during and my daughter seemed to come down with it on the plane ride home.
I wasn't in complete denial. I made a choice to put a high priority on sleep and hydration in hopes of getting through it unscathed. I took it mostly easy, but kept up with my training schedule, determined that I wasn't going to be stopped by a little tickle in my throat. I didn't even have a runny nose yet, just that lingering feeling that I could get hit with it any time. When I made the choice to power though, I really was capable of it. Plus, I always felt better after a workout then before, which I consider a sign that I made the right choice.
Then this morning, it wasn't lurking anymore. I woke up with a throbbing head, a sore throat, and more then just sniffle. Boo.
It doesn't mean I have to lose my new found fire or optimism though. It does mean I might need a little break and a bit of extra rest. Damn. I thought that I could beat this thing at the gate, but it seems I'm going to have to fight to get it out of the castle.