Potentially Lethal Manflu!!!

After my huge night out on Saturday (downed 4 mineral waters in 2 hours and didn't come home till midnight - GO ON), I woke up on Sunday with a tickle in my throat. I felt increasingly lethargic as the day progressed but managed to do my training and produced a few days' worth of meals before retiring for the evening. By Monday, though, I felt like muck. I decided to leave the strength training till after work and abandoned skipping - taking the view that Tuesday would be all skipping anyway, so why risk a heart attack, embolism or worse.

Add to this the fact that my resting heart rate which had been wending its way down below 50 was suddenly up to 80bpm, I decided my body was definitely fighting something and to come up with a strategy. They say feed a cold, but that's verboten (unless I feed it tea and oranges that come all the way from China, and just when it means to tell me that it has no love to give me then I get it on my wavelength and I smash it in in its face (as L. Cohen would almost say)). So instead I decided to sleep the fucker away. I was in bed by 9, dropped a half sleeping tab to assure immediate off-noddage and was asleep by 9:30. Unfortunately I awoke at 11:20 and didn't get back to sleep until 3am. So instead of 9 hours sleep, I got about 6.

A crabby day ensues. I attempted skipping this evening, but felt immediately dizzy so went to the static bike in the building gym but was soon wheezing away with a skyrocketing pulse on a very low effort. Total workout time < 10 minutes.

Assuming I live through the night, I may try again in the morning.

And if not, it's been nice knowing you guys. Except Pete, obviously. And Patrick who suggested I deserved this dread-ailment.