• pulled out of a race at the beginning when I thought it would be unwise;
• wasn't feeling unduly responsible for letting others down when I realised that I shouldn't run (or visit);
• slept, drank and rested when I needed it; and
• asked for assistance.

The result? An almost-recovered cold, a good rest, and high probability of being fit to run as planned on the weekend and resume normal training. Yay! For those who may have known me for a decade or more (Bob, are you reading this?), this is a first for me and a remarkable change in my tenacious (read=stubborn) tendency to struggle through regardless of the consequences.

I heard from Bob again this evening. It's amazing how far the rapid pace in technological change has reached, and what a difference it makes. Only a few years ago, we communicated through pen-on-postcards whilst travelling, it was novel in 1996 for him to telephone me on a RailPhone while en route to the Boston 100^th. Now, nearing the end of sealed roads in pinko-commie North Vietnam, he just uses his mobile phone to call me whenever nearing a village in mountainous country that would defy coverage here. Postcards were cheaper, but its wonderful to know that he is alive and well in real time, instead of the 'lost and lying in a Catalan ditch for 16 days' scenario of 1992.

I was sick, but I'm recovering. I will go for a jog in the warmth (huh! relative winter warmth), of the midday sun. Bob is alive, and very, very hungry having had nothing to eat since a bowl of noodles for breakfast (all that was available). Hopefully in a larger town he might be able to get some French inspired bread for a pain au vegemite.

I'll just go back to my complacent little life here in front of the fire.