The fat runner catches a cold...

So, as you were out enjoying the beautiful day yesterday, you might have heard a distant hacking... kind of like an irritating small dog barking... did you wonder what it was?

Let me enlighten you, dear friends, for it was me, hacking, sneezing and coughing myself away. Add to that a pinch of woe-is-me and voila! You have the recipe for a sick, fat runner.

No running since Monday, and I'm feeling like a crackhead without her pipe. No dreaming of fatty foods for me, ho ho ho, no. The pounding of my feet against the road. The sound of the birds singing merrily in the trees. The breeze (okay, let's be real, this *is* Colorado in the spring- breeze isn't accurate... gust is more like it) in my hair.


And now, that I feel 1/2 way human enough to run... it's supposed to snow. Curse thee cruel nature!

Ha ha. Okay, enough channeling of Shakespeare for now. I have a cough drop that is lovingly calling my name, and I cannot resist her sweet voice. :)
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