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Evolution of a Pizza

The old maxim says "starve a fever, feed a cold." Well that is what I was doing all of last week.

I started out with a snuffle Monday afternoon, gradually growing to a hoarse throat, daily NyQuil hangovers, and putrid mucus. I. Felt. Awful.

I do not get sick very often, so I took this as an opportunity to give myself a little bit of a break. Unfortunately, I got in exactly zero workouts for a total of zero miles.

For the most part, I ate healthy. I had chicken noodle soup one night, beef and salad another night... one night I had sushi because I convinced myself the wasabi would clear my sinuses. It did not, but it was delicious none the less.

The feeding of my cold culminated with a homemade pizza on Saturday. I made apple cinnamon pancakes for breakfast, and noticed my bread maker sitting on the counter lonely and neglected. I knew what I had to do.

I pulled out the ingredients to make a half wheat flour, half white flour pizza dough and got to baking.

Holy deliciousness, it was good: fresh mozzarella, sliced grape tomatoes, mushrooms, oregano, parsley and basil. And I did not feel terrible eating it. I felt pretty darn good.

And now this week, I am back to work!

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