Too bad bitching doesn't burn calories...

Without fail, production can breed disaster. What turned into a beautiful and pain-free wog on Monday led into a terrible Tuesday of the flu. So for a solid five days I was forced to cancel life as I knew it and succumb to the dredges of fever, body aches, and cough. Which, as it were, meant no exercise whatsoever mixed in with an unhealthy amount of barely eating. "Feed a cold, starve a fever" and all of that. In a family of four, three were stricken with the unwelcome and unwanted bug that fraught our home. So alas, today begins the journey anew. My seven year old, on the other hand, must have the immune system of an ancient ox. He was skipping and humming, singing and tumbling without a care in the world that three people he loved dearly were knocking on death's door. Okay, maybe death is a little melodramatic, but still. Not even a sniffle, nor a wayward "achoo" escaped his tiny mouth. Lucky devil. So, as I feel I have been granted a second chance at life (or 32nd, 45th, or 100th, if truth be told) I believe I will lace up those sneakers, double up that sports bra, and set the treadmill to a stealthy 4.5 and wog my way to March's victory. Or something like that. Welcome back!