I'll DO IT!!!!!

ARRRRGGH! Damn these New England Winters to a fiery hell. I have not taken a normal breath in almost 2 WEEKS and now I am tweaking and freaking out. My New Years resolution has been shot down by this bazooka of a cold and my resolve and patience have worn thin like ice in early Spring.

I started off the new year treating my body better than I have in months. Three weeks filled with healthy breakfasts, long peaceful runs, steamy yoga sessions, ample sleep, water galore, and so much more. Everything an active boy needs. I was feeling amazing and psyched for the year to come. Just three weeks in, as I am finally breaking into my stride and acclimating to my lifestyle changes, I am blindsided by Bronchial lungs, energy stocks depleted, and more congestion than a freeway on the fourth of July. I need to exorcise these demons within before I crack and crumble like poor Mr. Dumpty.

Try though I might, I find myself greeted with failure each time I try to break free of the virus' iron grip . I climb for a bit, or do a session of yoga, feel FANTASTIC, and then a few hours after my body deflates to its original state of weariness. I have slept swaddled in warm blankets for many nights, drank half the tea in China, and ingested enough vitamin C to now be considered a citrus fruit. Despite all this my body has yet to recover. I try to remain hopeful of returning to my New Years regiment but it's hard to stay psyched when your body has become your enemy.

Screw it. Today I have had enough. I go run despite the fact my lungs are filled with mucous, phlegm, and angst. The run feels like complete freedom after my stint with self inflicted captivity. I glide along the Jamaica Pond path with my Ipod shuffle blasting a wide assortment of bumpin' new beats. Music may have been known to tame the savage beast, but these bangers unleash the demons that have been driving me Mad. The music and frustration push me on to run five fast paced miles on this beautiful January evening.

I finish the run and the rusty iron taste of blood saturates my saliva as my chest heaves like the wolf who failed to blow down the brick house. Rising and falling as my lungs rasp away. My run was filled with not only a hellish fervor but also an abundance of coughing fits, snot rockets, and loogies. As I stretch on my stoop I cough up more of the dislodged nastiness that lines my airways. How does my body produce so much thick green goop and when will my body defeat this demon that suckles upon my good health?

Alas, working in the white lung inducing confines of Metrorock certainly will not provide me with the rejuvenating air my body requires. I spend my days in a modern dust bowl of the American 30's. A permanent haze of chalk and skin fragments create a sea of thick static air I helplessly ingest with each passing day. Each exhale rattling through my lungs like the dying breath of dragon.

A busy week lies ahead with the approaching of the Dark Horse finals and being healthy is a prerequisite for productivity. I will spend the rest of my weekend trying to stay motivated and showing this internal invader that I DO NOT QUIT. I will harness my excitement and force the remnants of this viral invasion to hoist their white flag. VIVA LA REVOLUCION.