Despite my still slightly sore ankle, I decided to go to the gym and do a mile. This I duly did, and managed it in 9.04, which was quite nice. I then did 30 mins on the old bike, on hill setting. With Fisher doing the same course, for the same length of time, I had the target distance of 8.1 miles to aim for.
Curse her, I only managed 7.9 miles. I console myself with the fact I was quite tired from the fast mile, so didn't pick up the pace early on, when the level was lower.
Did weights afterwards:
3 x 12 reps on chest press, 20kg.
3 x 12 reps on bicep curl, 30kg
6 reps on lat pull down, on 6 - whatever the fuck that is. I've given up trying to figure out whether I'm as strong as Phid and no longer care. I could kick her arse anyway. I own a gun.
As you can tell from the tone, I was pretty fed up by the end of it. I'd not eaten anything all day, having forgotten both breakfast and lunch, and the only thing in my system was a bottle of Lucozade sport. Yech. On the bike I felt seriously ropy for a moment or two, but it went away.
Anyway, Fisher is out at a meeting, so I'm enjoying a quiet house and feeling utterly, totally knackered.
Wait ...
Bollocks. I still haven't eaten anything. Oh - I had an apple and a packet of hula hoops (what am I? Seven?) but I don't really think that counts.
Hey ho. I'm going to call Koi.
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