I arose from the dead about Thursday. I will spare you the sad details of my illness, but suffice it to say, I did not run for 12 days. I have missed my faithful running pals. Thank you all for your well wishes, phone calls, and kind thoughts. I arose very late this morning (8:00 a.m.) to learn first hand what the term "Muffin Top" actually means. Now, I lost 3-5 pounds being sick, but as the theory of relativity would have it, I also lost all muscle tone and gravity is having a heyday. I put on my running clothes to find my bosom overflowed my running bra, and a spare tire grew above the waistline of my shorts. How can you have lost 5 pounds and be fatter than you were before? How does your body decide to divy up the new distribution of fat? Apprently my waist and bust have been silently duking it out over who gets the extra flab (not to be outdone by the flacid upper arm). I know, gross. Enough. But what's worse than being sick and flabby, is vanity. Anyhow, I tried to run 4 miles and I felt like the unoiled tin man creaking down the trail. The dogs however were elated. | 