More running...

5 miles today. That puts me 0.4 miles behind schedule at the moment, which isn't so much to worry about. Having a good week of it so far, which is a little perplexing, given that this is a hard week - 4 miles/8 miles/4 miles/rest/8 miles/17 miles - and that I felt so rough last week, which was an easy week. Then again, perhaps last week I was suffering the effects of the previous hard week, and now I'm benefitting from the rest. Whatever. Nice, sunny run in the middle of the day. Felt fine for the first 3 fifths, ankles a bit sore for the rest of it. But at least I got out the office and moved around a bit.

Last week, went to the Oval on Friday night. This turned out to be a wonderful case of syncronicity. I'd had the day off and I'd stayed far away from computers, instead assiduously following the List and cleaning the house. Drove back to the parents' and then SMSed everyone asking if they fancied the Oval that night. Which, when I got there, they all did. It was only Monday when I got back to checking emails again that I discovered everyone else had been wondering what to do all day, and had hit on the Oval as the best possible option about half an hour before I texted them. What larks.

Anyway, had to do 12 miles last Saturday, so I couldn't drink a lot. Made the mistake of staying in the Oval all night, but not drinking, so instead I matched Jason pint for pint. Except he was drinking Carling and could go home and sleep it off, whereas I was drinking Coke and thus got home about midnight and spent the next two hours lying in bed thinking my head was going to explode, heart racing and brain thumping away. So it is true: beer is good for you.

Got up at 6am, got dressed, ran for 12 miles. Got home and was stretching just in time for my mother to surface and ask if I was going running any time soon (thanks for that). Then as an act of utter injustice, instead of going back to bed for the rest of the day, got haircut, cleaned car, bought birthday presents, drove back to Kent and didn't get any sleep until I got back from Fran's birthday party at 2am on Sunday. Goths and hen nights do not mix. But on the plus side, the Rock Star and Dale both seem keen on playing with Dirty Burger. First songs: S**t in my mouth, You're Not My Daddy, The German Porn Song, and ... er... a power ballad. Yes, that would be nice.