Different sorts of pain

Went for a run last night, for the first time since I-can't-remember. Well, it can't be that long ago; there was that abortive attempt to up my 10k pace after the Tokyo marathon, after all. But in the last 4 weeks at least I can't have been running - I've been too busy with either shorinji kempo or comedy. And then I saw some video footage and it made me realise I was porkier than I thought I was. So now there's a panic to shift some weight off.
Only managed 4 km last night (being disorganised, going home and then finding I couldn't get into the flat because I'd left my keys on the desk at the office, having to spend 80 dollars in taxis to go there and back) but I did roughly three laps of Happy Valley. This is really unimpressive, although I did make the further mistake of having nothing but Angry music on my ipod, which in turn made me run like an idiot for 400m twice during the session. Not frequent enough to really count as interval training, but for a return to running after so long, also not smart enough to count as intelligence.
But it was a run, and that's important. Plus there was a point, even if was for only half a minute as I sprinted round listening to Toxic by Crazy Town (why? why? why? I'm not a 15 year old with angst problems from the late 1990s) where I felt more alive than I have since I can remember.
But then I do have a short memory. And possibly it was the delayed adrenalin rush from popping myself in the balls with a drink bottle twenty minutes beforehand.
Later, went to see Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. It has been compared by others to watching paint dry while hitting yourself on the head with a saucepan. I liked it, although vaguely disappointed by Jetfire not being voiced by Bill Bailey. And some of it is dreadful - quite what all the brave soldiers with rifles are doing against Giant Metal Robots makes little sense. But hey.
Have gone on Twitter. Tinged with regret to be on yet another social network. But nobody's forced me to, right?