Well, who needs the fun police when Lodgey’s in da house. Right now, my life is about as exciting as a big fat can of cat food.
Let me set the scene. It’s Saturday night. I’ve just bid my flatmates a GREAT night out (*sob*) and I’m watching some complete load of bollocks on TV. At least my ugg boots aren’t feeling neglected.
I’ve eaten so much pasta that it’s just about coming out my nostrils (possibly took the carb-loading a little too far). I’m even too stuffed to eat chocolate.
I’m so water-logged that I need to pee as soon as I’ve returned from the last one.
And, of course, there’s my poor iced up legs – quivering at the prospect of the complete and utter battering they are about to receive.
Tomorrow, I plan to run for two and a half hours. Oh. My. Flippin. Heck. God.
I’m not quite sure how far I will run in two and a half hours. I’m hoping for 14 miles. I should be up to 18 miles but the shin splints set me back.
I can not actually fathom how I will do it. Or whether I will be able to do it. I feel SICK just thinking about it. But I will do it. Or at least I’ll give it a red hot go.
So this is it. Wish me a little luck.