My wee brother Keith called me today to inform me that he was on his way out to the all-you-can-eat Sunday brunch at the Four Seasons Hotel in Irving Texas, just north west of Dallas. Oh, and he was also concerned that "the blog has gone cold". To discover the reason for that, we have to go back seven long days… *..cue Scooby Doo squiggly screen..*
Last Sunday when I got home from St. Andrews, I started to feel a bit queasy and the next morning when I got up at 5am to catch a flight to London, I could barely move my aching bones after a night of feverish sleep in sweat-soaked sheets. (I’m going to spare you descriptions of other bodily excretions that took place in a different room of the house.) This condition might have been acceptable if I’d had company but I didn’t so the rest of my week consisted of maximum bathing, minimum shaving, drinking lots of water and Lem-Sip Max Strength, eating a little food, laundering some bed linen, “working” from home, more sleep than I’ve had in what seems like a decade and most alarming of all, absolutely no running whatsoever.
I also developed what I have now officially patented as my ‘worried and concerned face’™ such was the anxiety over not being able to get out the house, far less put on my running shoes. In truth, I did venture out to the gym late on Friday evening but had to stop after half an hour when pixies came floating out of my nose and tried to trip me off the treadmill with a series of mesmerising dance moves and punches to my face. Either that or my legs gave way and I fell over.
And so to my ‘long run’ today. I was supposed to do 16 miles. I reckon I managed 11 at most in the two hours and 6 minutes that I was out. Not nearly enough. By the time Emmylou appeared on my iPod singing ‘Deeper Well’ – “thought I’d died and gone to hell, looking for the water from a deeper well” – I knew exactly how she felt. So if anyone happens to be passing and can hear my shouts from far below in the dark, I’d be obliged if you could throw me a rope. Thank you.
Meantime, let me dwell on more positive things and say a very big thank you to Rona, Douglas, Sue, Bruce, Linda, Evie, Kenny Y, Heather, Elaine and Marshall for their kind and generous sponsorship over the last four weeks.
There’s only four days to go now until World Autism Awareness Day on April 2nd and only four weeks to go until the Flora London Marathon itself. If you’d like to make a donation to this extremely worthwhile cause, and thereby avoid receiving a nagging email from me, you can do so by going to…
www.justgiving.com/neilsutherland
Last Sunday when I got home from St. Andrews, I started to feel a bit queasy and the next morning when I got up at 5am to catch a flight to London, I could barely move my aching bones after a night of feverish sleep in sweat-soaked sheets. (I’m going to spare you descriptions of other bodily excretions that took place in a different room of the house.) This condition might have been acceptable if I’d had company but I didn’t so the rest of my week consisted of maximum bathing, minimum shaving, drinking lots of water and Lem-Sip Max Strength, eating a little food, laundering some bed linen, “working” from home, more sleep than I’ve had in what seems like a decade and most alarming of all, absolutely no running whatsoever.
I also developed what I have now officially patented as my ‘worried and concerned face’™ such was the anxiety over not being able to get out the house, far less put on my running shoes. In truth, I did venture out to the gym late on Friday evening but had to stop after half an hour when pixies came floating out of my nose and tried to trip me off the treadmill with a series of mesmerising dance moves and punches to my face. Either that or my legs gave way and I fell over.And so to my ‘long run’ today. I was supposed to do 16 miles. I reckon I managed 11 at most in the two hours and 6 minutes that I was out. Not nearly enough. By the time Emmylou appeared on my iPod singing ‘Deeper Well’ – “thought I’d died and gone to hell, looking for the water from a deeper well” – I knew exactly how she felt. So if anyone happens to be passing and can hear my shouts from far below in the dark, I’d be obliged if you could throw me a rope. Thank you.
Meantime, let me dwell on more positive things and say a very big thank you to Rona, Douglas, Sue, Bruce, Linda, Evie, Kenny Y, Heather, Elaine and Marshall for their kind and generous sponsorship over the last four weeks.
There’s only four days to go now until World Autism Awareness Day on April 2nd and only four weeks to go until the Flora London Marathon itself. If you’d like to make a donation to this extremely worthwhile cause, and thereby avoid receiving a nagging email from me, you can do so by going to…
www.justgiving.com/neilsutherland
1 comment:
Soaps,
I'm not medically qualified to a high level , but I reckon you don't sound too well.
Beer & pizza might help.
Dr DC
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