An antiquated and absurd view that by thirty so much life shit should be order, and if it's not, put simply - we've fucked it.
I vow to stop spending my money going for drinks with people I deep down don't really enjoy the company of.
If I hear one more person say 'god, I just get so depressed at the end of the weekend', when in essence they've just got the hump that nothing decent is on after Dancing On Ice...
It feels like 1998 and I'm bloody loving it.
if you were to do a recce of my calorie intake over the last 8 days I'd qualify for World's Biggest Loser and give Rik Waller a run for his money.
...and it ain't a glittery muffin, thanks.
So, little marathon training update for everyone - this week I smashed my first 7 miler. Which for someone who couldn't run 4 metres in October without getting a stitch felt pretty fecking remarkable to tell you the truth. But obviously over the course of an hour and a half (yes, yes I ran for … Continue reading All that running rage