I used to aspire to having six-pack abs. I did crunches until my abs ached. I cut out sugar. I researched the topic as if I was going to write a book. I never did stoop so low as to buying a gadget off an infomercial, but I did think about for just a second.
People who knew of my quest told me it was genetic. This certainly made this effort more futile given that even though my family carries the stubborn gene, the athletic gene and the shopping gene, it does not carry the 6-pack gene.
Eventually I gave up.
And then I got the stomach flu last Sunday.
I must first, explain, though, the moniker “stomach flu” is actually a misnomer. The stomach flu is indeed a virus, but it is not related to the typical influenza virus and cannot be prevented with the flu shot.
My symptoms snuck up on me, oh so cleverly, during a long run. Imagine being out in the middle of a field, 60 minutes from home, and the floodgates open. It was worse than an Ironman GI disaster.
I somehow hobbled home, bonked and disheveled. I even jumped in the car when I saw Mark, who was on his way home from a hike with Diesel. They were 10 feet from the house.
I was chained to the house for the next several days, needing the security of the bathroom and too weak to do anything anyway. A liquid diet was implemented, but even this was too much for my ailing stomach.
By day 4, I had reaped the benefits of not eating and having round the clock GI distress. If I looked really close into the mirror and squinted a little, I could see the inklings of a very enviable, solid 2-pack. Certainly, I felt terrible, my energy was low, and I could not work out, but, at least I had something.
So, for all of you looking for that elusive washer board stomach, come on over and I will help you achieve it by generously passing along this stomach bug.