It's Sunday night and I'm looking forward to getting my butt to the gym tomorrow after I put my son on the school bus. Never mind that I haven't been able to shake my head cold. The doc I saw last week assured me that I'd be better by the weekend, but if I wasn't, he'd sent a Rx for antibiotics to my pharmacy. I'm not better. And as much as I'd like to rely on zinc, vitamin C and chicken soup, a week's too long to blow gobs of pea soup out of your head. I'm certainly not worried about being contagious -- neither my son nor my husband have even a sniffle.
My husband assures me that I won't actually be as weak as I fear. I'm concerned I won't be able to even do a pushup. Last time I tried, I managed to squeak out 50, although I admit the last 5 were really hard. I've got my gym bag packed and the alarm set. Keeping my fingers crossed and my hopes high!
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