My lungs were on fire, as I struggled with this morning’s run through the streets of downtown Portland. As I try to write about the experience, my hands shake uncontrollably on the keyboard. It’s the dreaded combination of a bad cold and old age. I was glad to take a seat at the computer and let my blood pressure return to normal levels. My pace was much faster today despite not feeling much better. I’m down to the last of my cold medication so hopefully the coughing spells will soon come to an end and the congestion in my chest will loosen its merciless grip on my lungs. 

I don’t know if I’ll go back outside again today even though the forecast calls for more sunshine. Blankie continues to call. I’m now watching Safe on Netflix at the recommendation of a friend. It’s the second Harlan Coben novel made into a series. I also enjoyed The Stranger during this recent bout of sickness. It’s Netflix and Chills, as I shiver under the cover of my Cubs blanket. It has a big “W” on it for worthless, describing my lifeless condition these past few days. I missed a dentist appointment and two get-togethers with friends but at least kept my 4,073 daily running streak intact.  Missing a day would kill me, although I did have to cut back to the mileage minimum on the first day of this unforgiving crud.

I feel like I’m throwing away money by not using our Regal Unlimited passes these past two weeks. The first week we were in Las Vegas, while this week I haven’t been able to go fifteen minutes without coughing or sneezing. They tell you at the theater to turn-off your cell phone, but you can’t just shut off an annoying cough. If I was still working, I know that I probably wouldn’t have missed a day, selfishly spreading my germs throughout the office. It was apparently in my DNA, just like running, an unforgivable sin to miss even a single day. I blame it on the Perfect Attendance Award that I missed out on in kindergarten because my Mom made me stay home. Never again! At least with running I’m not putting others at risk. In retirement, I can stay in seclusion under the Cubs Blankie until I’m no longer contagious. 

It’s a Saturday, now lost in retirement. There’s no longer that anticipation of getting there every week since it’s just like every other day. In three more Saturdays we’ll be in Phoenix, soaking in some solar warmth. In eight, we’ll have been at Alcatraz, and eleven Saturdays from today we’ll be in Bali with the year nearly half over. By then, the Portland weather will be glorious and tempting us to stay. Florida is calling and it’s not just some telemarketer about extending my warranty or saving on credit card interest rates. We will make a life-changing decision mid-year on where we’ll build our “forever” home, and escape from the cold, damp winter temperatures that far too often leads to Blankie time. Bring on the Heat!