The fog has not lifted all day, the sun has not shone and I have not gone for a run. I feel headachy and flat. This week has been very hard work.
Thursday night I had a great time at Kirsty's, where she gave me an amazing massage. She's like a panelbeater for your body, she's brilliant. Then we popped down to the Raj for a curry and a catch up. We were the only people in the restaurant until the First Minister arrived, thankfully minus entourage. (Edinburgh's a small town. If you would like to avoid your elected officials, move to Falkirk.)
I spent the night on Kirsty's incredibly comfortable couch. I would have slept well were it not for the inquisitive cats...
The next morning I staggered into work feeling quite hungover. I was not even thinking of running. And yes, I've doublechecked my theory about postponing runs. They just never happen. Not even the thought of the wrath of Teacake has helped me shake off this morning's headache and get out into the fog. So I've officially missed Friday's run. To distract you from this I've made a photo essay of my walk to work. See my next post.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment