Dr. Jack Daniels will see you now.

Today's miles: none...still...none.

So, last week I was at my wits end wanting to run, but not running despite my mental state because I was trying to let my foot heal. But Friday was the day...the "Do or Die Day"...the "Make it or Break it Day".

In other words, it was an appointment with my foot doctor....whom I was going to tell because he obviously has no idea what he's doing with utmost respect and authority, that I was going to start running again because Not running was Not helping my foot. His response was to shoot my foot up with Cortisone.

Well. That didn't turn out like I thought.

This is the second or third time I've had a Cortisone injection in my foot. The first two lasted for 3 months and 6 weeks. Somehow this makes my doctor optimistic? Me...not so much. I go back in 4 weeks for another injection. If that doesn't help....he suggests surgery....I suggest...another foot doctor.

But, he did give me the clearance to start running again.....1 mile, three times a week. Then if I didn't have pain, I could increase the next week to 1.5 miles, three times a week. But I could not exceed that until I saw him again in 4 weeks.

I'm all excited when I leave the doctor's office......'I GET TO RUN AGAIN, I GET TO RUN AGAIN!' I even started planning out my Monday to 'fit in' my 1 mile run and enjoy every minute of it.

Then I woke up on Sunday with a very sore throat. I thought it was from snoring heavy breathing while sleeping the night before. The 'run down' feeling came later. Sometime late Sunday night...the beast was unleashed.

Fever.
Chills.
Waking up sweating like a pig in line at a barbeque.
A headache that makes a migraine seem like a welcomed diversion.
A throat that feels like I swallowed a porcupine marinated in habanero sauce.
Body aches that could only come from my husband running over me repeatedly with a dump truck.

Death never looked so good on me.

My Monday run was cancelled. My trip to Kentucky was cancelled. The only thing I have accomplished other than this blog is hours of uninteresting entertainment on Facebook and Pinterest. Even Jon Stewart has lost his his appeal.

This morning, things were not looking better. Thinking that maybe this wasn't just going to 'run it's course,' I called the doctor, which of course required a visit and a swab for a Strep test.

So, it's not Strep. Thankfully.

Official diagnosis: The crud. It's going around.

Official prescription: Go home and take some ibuprofen every 5-6 hours. Eat lots of popsicles and take a snort of whiskey every 4-5 hours.

Seriously. My doctor just prescribed whiskey.

Gotta run...time for nap #86 since Sunday...