Training plan..... check.
Mileage goals.... check.
Diet plan in place..... check.
Alright! Spring is coming, mid 50's in the forecast for next week -- you got this one in the bag, eh, Dude? Don't ya? Yeah.... helll, yeah....
Flu, baby! IN-FLU-ENZA, baby! That's right, lay down and don't do NUTHIN', boyee!
I got you now. Sucka.
Now, I don't know exactly when Ice Cube and Mother Nature melded into one central character, but that how my brain works. Ice Cube is back, 6'2" with a fly doo and bright blue kicks standing over my shriveled corpse, laughing meniachally while polishing the GSR off his gat.
Boom, beotch, you got the flu now. Stay down, honky.
So, I took a few moments out of my haze, brought to you by Nyquil, Tamiflu, Mucinex, Tylenol, Advil and Sudafed -- hey, we fight hard -- to type a few words of discouragement to the blog universe. While outside, new snow falls and re-coats the roadways and sorta solidifies that whole "you ain't riding SHEET, homes", feeling I've got. Whooo.
Gimme about five days, and we'll be toe-to-toe with Ice Cube, readdy to put the smack down on any more illnesses and get back in the saddle. Ta-dow!
Alright, seriously: don't fool with mutha nat-chuuh, ho.
If I was ACTUALLY toe-to-toe with Ice Cube, I'd scream like a little girl and ask for an autograph. He could bitch-slap me and I wouldn't mind.
Yes, sir, I'll lay back down. Sorry. Clutching my signed copy of Straight Outta Compton, and that rare hidden track, "F* your immune system."
I'm gonna go back to bed now.