I’m knackered, the only problem is that I’m not convinced I deserve to be. Regardless, there’s no escaping the reality of a situation… whatever it is.
After running for almost two weeks without a day off (a rarity for me), I welcomed the scheduled rest on Monday. The big old ‘naught’ on the fridge never looked so pleasing. No, it was nothing but my bike and me on a surprisingly cool morning. If I were a betting man, I’d say autumn is just around the corner.
As I rolled out the door on Tuesday I didn’t quite know what to expect, but my legs quickly resumed there efficient shuffle and I clipped along the Goose on my way into work. Unless I leave at the corridor is usually lined with people either commuting to work or out for a morning stroll with Rover. That morning though the passageway was void of all traffic but me, it was borderline eerie. I had to convince myself that it was a weekday and that Ally hadn’t played a cruel joke on me.
The jaunt home mind you couldn’t have been more different. As I cut across
Work has been busy the last few days/weeks, and if yesterday’s throne speech is anything to go by, the year ahead isn’t going to slow down for me and my colleagues. So, with the phone ringing off the hook and that beloved envelope icon forever in the right-hand corner of my screen, I closed my office door and set off home, already late to meet the girls.
The scheduled had called for 8x800 but running to the track and getting home on time wasn’t in the cards. Instead, I set off through
Until later, ciao!
Monday: day off (scheduled)
Tuesday: A.M. 44:43, P.M.