здравствуйте читатели That’s Russian for ‘hello readers’ thought I owed a shout out to my Russian followers, all nine of you!
OK, where to start. The weekend has passed and to be honest it passed with one hell of a blur.
Yes the, ‘my body is a temple’ memo did not get to my mouth on Saturday as I unashamedly consumed around about my own body weight in lager. Go me!
If I was in training to attend a drinkathon I’d have had a gold medal on Saturday.
But, I’m jumping the gun there; let me tell you about my bouncing activity on Saturday morning. (See what I did there with the jumping/bouncing lingo?)
I got up, way too early for my liking; I forgot to switch the bloody alarm off and to get out of cleaning duties, Scotty Boy actually had a list for me, I bounded out of the abode to get myself a new bra.
Yes, the boys need some god damn decent support and who the hell am I to deprive my troubled double FF’s of some decent racking.
So, Saturday morning consisted of me bouncing around the changing rooms of DW Sports, like a; bouncy idiot. Buying a sports bra is quite serious business not to mention quite risky. I mean, even though I did my best Tiger impression, you can’t be one hundred % sure that the bra you buy is the best for you? It’s not until your bounding about on the pavements do you really get the best bond with your bra.
I settled for a black number. A black SHOCK ABSORBER! Yes, I am now the owner of a shock absorber. Hannah the runner with her Shock Absorber. Cool or what?
Now, technically the Shock Absorber should have made its debut yesterday and even on my eleventh or twelfth pint I had full intentions of completing the seventh mile run on Sunday. In fact, I was definitely going to run.
Definitely.
Certainly.
And then I opened, or should I say I tried to open my eyes on Sunday.
I’m pretty sure death would be less painful than what I felt Sunday. It was that bad I actually cried. I shed tears over being hungover. What the hell has happened to me?
Now it’s Monday I have come to the conclusion that my athletic status is actually playing a massive role in my lack of recovery when it comes to alcohol. Yes, because I am fit, because I have muscles I now have a lack of tolerance when it comes to Coors Light.
Philosopher/doctor/expert, whatever you want to call me, I will answer.
So, yesterday consisted of me lying in bed, on the most glorious of days, moaning, whining and then crying and then going to the Baili again.
Punishment, glutton, rearrange into a well-known phrase along with head, dick.
Four pints later, an immense amount of shaking and a Chinese resulted in no running.
The plans all to fuck.
I’m all to fuck.
This world is…you guessed it.
So, Monday again and technically today is a rest day but due to my busy social calendar (I am a social butterfly; this will not change) I’ve been forced to re-arrange the running so I can complete my big run on Friday morning. And a big one it is!
It’s around the thirteen mile mark. I wish to make no more comments on this.
So, three miles tonight…apparently.
Although it’s super warm out and I fancy a bit of bonding with the FiFi and Fizz and I do like cider in the sun and I…oh god I DON’T WANT TO RUN TONIGHT!
I don’t want to run I want to continue my research on dolphin rape if I’m totally honest. It was brought to my attention yesterday that there are at least fourteen cases of dolphins raping humans every year.
Fourteen!
I was hoping to swim with the buggers in seven days.
Seven days! Seven days until I’ve got run in the Mexican sunshine.
Life is tough.
Enjoy the sunshine kids.
No comments:
Post a Comment