The best-laid plans...

I had the next four days off from work all figured out. Thursday - 5 or 6 mile warm up run. Check.

The next three days were forecasted to be beautiful weather: sunny, temperatures in the 50s, light winds out of the west. Bike tuned-up for the year. Check.

I would train in earnest. Doubling up each day on the bike and on foot. Run at least 5 miles, and then bike or vice versa. It was the perfect time to not only do some good running but also get in the much needed first few training miles on the bike. My first duathlon of the year is in June.

Nanny coverage for three hours a day for the next three days. Check.

I was excited. Friday morning 6:30 a.m. vomited in the kitchen sink. Check.
No, wait!


Okay, okay, must have been something I ate. Probably the chinese take out. Probably should not have also eaten that coffee ice cream right before bed. Probably shouldn't have washed it all down with white wine. Okay, okay, I have 5 hours before the babysitter gets here. I'll be fine. No, really, I'll be fine. Get it out of my system, and I'll be back on track. Famous last words.

I will spare you all the gory details of what was to follow. Just imagine the worst stomach virus you've had in the last ten years or so. Add to that the second-to-worst stomach virus you've had in the last ten years or so and that's what I was in the middle of.

Now on Sunday afternoon, after what should have been the end of  my triumphant 4-day training regimen, I am writing this in bed, body shattered and slightly depressed by my condition. By the way, my wife is no less than a saint for all that she has done this week. I also do not have a photograph that is appropriate for this post.

So if anyone has been wondering why you have not heard from me in a while: "The best-laid plans of mice and men / Often go awry."