Don’t know what went wrong, possibly a trip to the International Terminal at SFO, but Saturday night turned into the night of the living dead. Projectile vomiting, explosive…well you get the gist. Not good. No bike ride on Sunday, no food, couldn’t even keep ice chips down. A four point fever and a day in bed. Monday was a little better. Ice stayed down, I added Gatorade to the mix and by evening ate a Quesedilla. Tuesday got me back to the gym sweating like a pig, but I think I needed it. Sure can’t even consider wine right now. I’m taking this week off from weights because it’s the end of a four week cycle and I’ve done two in a row with no break, so here’s a self imposed break. Here’s today’s stats.
This seems high