My fault after-all.

Needless to say, Bob and I are non-starters for the wonderfully named "Palm and Pawn" Duathlon tomorrow. I'm keen to visit Wagga again, ("Why? I hear you ask") as my sister went there to lecture around 1979-ish, and I have fond memories of finding out that what I considered be be the end of civilisation had a surprising amount going for it. When I then met and started going out with one of her colleagues, I got to know some aspects of the restaurants and countryside even better.

But I digress.

No night sweat early on, but a huge one later during the morning. My eyes were/are the worse they've ever been, stuck together with mucous, constantly blurred and hard to focus. I jumped (OK, slight exaggeration) out of bed still planning to go, but by the time I made it up the stairs to the kitchen I knew that this was a foolish pipe dream. As soon as Bob helped me re-make my bed and I had a bath, I went back to bed and stayed there all day.

Aki rang me to say that she and the PRB were going for a swim. I declined, although it was a lovely idea. Bob headed off to the pool at the same time but didn't see them. Otherwise, not much to report. It's more important I recover than put miles on my legs, in the pool, or on the bike. As Lucky Legs says it's only four weeks to the main event - the slow six foot track.

So, rest (boring), fluids and limited reading (thankfully I touch type) for a day or three.