A Ton of Bricks

Warren Zevon put it this way:

Hit me like a ton of bricks,

had to have my outlook fixed. 

(With my back turned looking down the path.) 

I am officially sick. About as far under the weather as one can be and still have use of heart and lung. Everything else is either sore, aching, inactive or, in the case of my head, throbbing. This should come as no surprise as everyone else in our circle-of-friends has had their dance. I am the last. And I am here to report to you today that it sucks. 

The morning's two 55 minute drives sandwiched around my spin class notwithstanding, there remains a painfully long distance separating now and quitting time. I have been entrusted with the care of two dogs, one suffering from a tumor and on the watch list, and the other a black lab, where feeding is a 24/7 consideration. I have a clients landscaping to tend to and then one more session in the PowerBarn at 1730. I have already blown through three handkerchiefs, 1,500 Mg's of Vitamin C and two quarts of water. I feel like I can make it as long as it says off my lungs, which, according to those that have gone bravely before me, say is next. Oh dear. 

That is the current situation. I attempt no pity, it is simply fact. I will try my best to plow through my remaining responsibilities and not further compromise the mission. The goal is to make it to 1900 on my feet. After that, with any luck at all, I will sleep until well after the sun has come up tomorrow, tomorrow being a light day. 

My ‘A’ race of the season is in twelve days. I have no idea how this will play out and into that hand. Most likely I should cancel everything and rest. But as somebody said a long time ago, (and obviously not the Z-Man about his getting leveled by 2,200 pounds of brick): The Show Must Go On.