Can you hear that? It’s a sort of scrabbling, clawing, scraping sound…
It is in fact the sound of me clinging on to the Janathon wagon in a desperate attempt to avoid falling off.
Tonight I came home from work and seemed to be juggling all sorts of priorities in my head, feeling tired and trying to ignore all of the niggling aches that have been creeping up on me (I squatted down on my haunches at work today and there was an almighty CRACK like a branch snapping). I don’t want to get injured and more importantly, they’ve affected my enjoyment of my last couple of outings.
I consulted the oracle. Ginge reckoned that if I did give up at this late stage, he would have a sulky missus in the morning. His suggestion was a thing of genius. An Athon is not an Athon without me doing at least one run home from Tesco. I say ‘home from Tesco’, what actually happens is that Ginge just pulls over and throws me out of the car at the side of the road (sometimes I can hear him shouting “so long sucker…..” as he drives away). Normally this happens three miles away. Today it was one.
One paltry mile. Enough to keep me on board.
PS. Thank you to Adele over at Fit Artist for tweeting me the best motivational poster ever.