I got home from work tonight and made a pot of chicken soup for my poor sick self. Pitiful, isn't it? I am using my x-mother-in-law's (God rest her soul) recipe. It is a satisfying feeling to be using a recipe that is many generations old - and came from the "old country."
I am not going out to run with my group tomorrow morning. I am just not well enough. I have hopes that I will be able to run on Sunday. But if not, I will find another way to get my 18 miles in.
I got an e-mail from the race director for my next race. It may be cancelled since it is in Boulder and the site of the race is currently the camping site of the non-local fire fighters. I guess we will know in the next few days whether it will need to be postponed/cancelled.
I may post something tomorrow morning - I hate that 9/11 has become a normal day - with a sprinkling of wing-nuts looking for a way to capitalize, publicize, and self-aggrandize.
I am tired and sick and don't have a lot to say. I am grateful to be sober that I have a comfortable home to be sick in. I would rather be sick in comfort than in squalor.