There I was... hammering away on the bike, cutting through the water like a blade and confident that my running form would return once my achilles injury healed up when POW! My new buddy made himself known. It was Wednesday morning and I was planning on a long ride. But something felt wrong. For the first time in as long as I could remember - I didn't fancy breakfast.
Something told me to quit the ride and see what happened.
Well, what happened was that I was laid low by the norovirus, the most malevolent, evil, hostile house-sitter you're ever gonna come across. It's five days on now and in that time I've lost over 5kgs in bodyweight and quite honestly, I feel like I've been through the wringer. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts at isolation and copious amounts of disinfectant, I managed to infect Alice. It also looks like Fiona may be coming down with it.
So all bets are off. All training is off. I'm officially in recovery mode for a couple of weeks.
At least today I feel a little more human again. The virus seems to have left my gut and moved to my chest, making me wheezy tired. I'm sure that will pass though.
It got me thinking just how lucky we are to have our health. Some folk have to live life with illness and immobility and pain and suffering an everyday part of their existence.
In the last few days I've learned the true meaning of an 'ultra event'.
So, I'm going to sign off. I hope that next week I will have returned to training and be a little brighter.
Most importantly, I hope that you and yours are healthy and well.