I've got two colds dueling in my head, if that's even possible. They feel distinctly different, yet conjointly miserable. In fact, I still detect last week's mere single cold yet lingering, if merely a ghost. Get one, or all three of them from me. Go ahead, guess how much I care. I don't.
I'm back on the road. If still somewhat a diminished runner, my plans are grander then ever. I applied to get a team into Hood to Coast 2012, and was denied. It was a brutal stomach-ache of a week, repeated texts for my account balance, page refresh requests, internet stalking, tight-lipped lottery -- my iphone swiping finger is unbelievably sore. I'm in the grief stage, the bargaining, raging, denying stage over and over. It's done now. I'm setting my sights higher. Marathons again, ultra-marathons even. Maybe someday ultra-ultra-marathons, someday when no body needs me anymore.