I stayed home from work yesterday. I wasn't dying. I could have drug my butt into work, hid in my cubicle all day and not accomplished a whole hell of a lot...but does that make sense? As of Tuesday afternoon, there was nothing urgent on my plate Wednesday (although, upon my return, I discovered that it was necessary to hunt down and browbeat a coworker about scheduling meetings ahead of time...and not for noon, unless he's providing lunch). I woke up feeling like crap for the second day in a row, so decided to call it in and try beating this bug before it got nasty. I have extra motivation for trying to get over this quickly: this week is supposed to be the first week of training for my half-marathon. Which is about how it usually goes.
I wouldn't say I'm totally over being sick, but it's amazing what a few extra hours (okay, seven) of sleep will do. I even managed to do the speed work on my training plan tonight (4 x 400 m). Hopefully I'll be ready for my three and six mile runs by the time the weekend rolls around.
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