I was not feeling the Janathon love today. In my defence, there are just three days to go and mostly I have been annoyingly chirpy and giddy throughout the month. In fact, on the twentieth, when JogBlog tweeted that there was just eleven days to go, I had a little pang that it was all going to be over soon. Today the end cannot come quickly enough.
This morning everything ached. I would kill for a decent massage. None of this namby-pamby gentle soothing spa day massage to the sounds of whales playing panpipes, a proper pummeling, deknotting massage that makes me swear. That would be lovely.
And I’ve spent the day feeling a bit off-side at work, out of sorts and a bit stressy and worried.
And I had been promised some of my colleague’s home-made soup for dinner, but when I got back to the office at two o’clock, it turned out that it was still in her fridge and it was too late for me to get anything else. So I just ate my fruit and an underfed me is not a happy me (I’m not going to waste away but I do get bloody grumpy).
And then it started raining.
And I had to go out and Janathon.
But then it stopped raining and Ginge very kindly offered to accompany me (I think it was as much as a precaution against me punching a passer-by as much as anything). I was going to do three miles, but at a mile and a half it started bucketing down. It would have been unfair of me to make Ginge endure this for another mile, so selflessly I cut it short at two miles.
I might make up the difference tomorrow…
In honour of my wearing of the grumpiest grumpy-pants, I thought I’d recycle my picture of this little fellow – the Grumpasaurus.