Feed a cold. Starve a fever.

Well, it happened. After marching through one winter (winter 2006) without so much as a sniffle, winter 2007 has whapped me (and hubby) with a nice, throaty, icky cold. I sound like the guy who has been smoking for like 50 years. You know the one. S. sounds like that guy's grandpa. Ick. Sorry, S. I love you anyway :)

Hubby, who is truly faring worse than I am, was the one who said last night, "Tomorrow we shall go to the gym." I was not loving the idea, but I understood what he was trying to accomplish: keep in the habit of getting there on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So, I hit the hay around 9pm, in my sweatshirt, flannel pants and shirt, socks (I know, Mom. That's a 'no no,' but I had to. My feet were SO cold), hoping to sweat out the cold. I awoke this morning, cold still there, but feeling well-rested. I thought that I would be able to hit the treadmill with gusto. That was not the case.

I walked for the first 2 minutes. At 2 minutes, I decided to try running, and I did. For three minutes. Total. Yep. After that, I had to walk. As I ran, I had that 'I've swallowed too much chlorine in the pool feeling.' Have you ever had that? As a child, I swam all the time. In fact, my nickname was "the Fish." My parents couldn't get me out of the pool. Nothing could get me out. Except that throat feeling. That feeling I got when my brothers spent most of their day pushing me under the water until I gulped so much chlorinated water that I would feign death so they would let me up. That icky throat feeling is what I had going on this morning. So, I decided that it was better to be safe than sorry, and I walked for the next 25 minutes at 4.2. It was good, and I was really sweaty, which tells me that my body was doing all it possibly could.