I returned home this evening to the rumble of thunder. The skies turned orange, then black, as the lightning flashed over our building, but the promised rain never came. Still, I whimpered and tried to hide in the wardrobe at every thunderclap. Why my wife thinks she wants a pet animal when she has a perfectly good me is quite mysterious.
Later, when the weather was calm again, I went for a run, an easy, slow one, that inexplicably ended up being a mile at marathon pace. Maybe it was the shoes, maybe it was all the tortilla chips I ate, perhaps it was two hours of dicking about on the xbox. Whatever it was, I was surprised. My legs work, my knees don't hurt, and I don't seem to have lost any pace. It's almost like I didn't run on Sunday.
In three days time I'll have been writing this blog every day for three years. I'm not sure if the next three years will involve as much sweat as this one, or indeed so many pairs of running shoes. We will have to see.
For now, that's all: I had a can of Pepsi last night and couldn't sleep, so I'm rather behind on sleep now, and my eyes are beginning to give up on me. Til tomorrow, then.
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