It's been a week now since my left foot sustained the LIFE THREATENING INJURY that might just mean I have to give up this RIDICULOUS MARATHON ENDEAVOUR and go off and smoke a nice cigarette instead. But after four days of no-one taking any notice whatsoever of me curled up in the corner whimpering for sympathy and attention, I decided it might be best to remove the fake intravenous drip and go back to something productive. Like dreaming about Gillian Anderson in lycra.
Ever since I gave up smoking and began this exercise lark, I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping. I’ve had no trouble getting to sleep (especially with the latest Stephen Hawking “page-turner” by my bedside) but my body, and especially my brain, seems to want to operate in sleep shifts of four hours maximum and wakes me up unexpectedly with scant respect for how I might feel about the situation. This morning, for instance, I was awake (and I mean WIDE awake) at 4am, which was especially annoying because only moments before, Gillian Anderson had started revealing the top of her left thigh to show me her new tattoo before the Sweet-Effin-Jesus-Will-You-PUH-LEASE-Let-Me-Finish-Just-One-Dream alarm clock kicked in.
It’s gonna be another week till my foot feels pain-free enough to pound the streets again. If only I could find suitable, calorie-burning exercise to do at four in the morning.
Ever since I gave up smoking and began this exercise lark, I’ve had a lot of trouble sleeping. I’ve had no trouble getting to sleep (especially with the latest Stephen Hawking “page-turner” by my bedside) but my body, and especially my brain, seems to want to operate in sleep shifts of four hours maximum and wakes me up unexpectedly with scant respect for how I might feel about the situation. This morning, for instance, I was awake (and I mean WIDE awake) at 4am, which was especially annoying because only moments before, Gillian Anderson had started revealing the top of her left thigh to show me her new tattoo before the Sweet-Effin-Jesus-Will-You-PUH-LEASE-Let-Me-Finish-Just-One-Dream alarm clock kicked in.
It’s gonna be another week till my foot feels pain-free enough to pound the streets again. If only I could find suitable, calorie-burning exercise to do at four in the morning.
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