I'm at the gym after my usual visit to the cinema. Woke up twice today, once at 12:00 and then again at 15:00. Thought I should make good representation of a weekend day, so ran to gym after the film, The Girl with the Dragon tattoo. Quite hectic film, rather excellent and captivating.
It wasn't too long ago since I did my last 10k'er at the gym - it was Thursday. I remember me running on the tread mill, half way in, rather bloody tired, sweating like a stressed convict as I contemplated if 6km was an OK distance to cover or whether if really needed to be 10k's that I did. While straining with my conscious, I noticed a rather pretty woman fill my periphery and then before my thinking had time to continue whimpering with compromises, it changed its tune and quietly whispered, "Shit, the pressures on now" and those 10k's were on now. I found myself pushing through the boundaries that were the 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th kilometres for someone I didn't know - but my conscious seemed pretty fond of her as it told me that 7km's wasn't enough nor was 8 or 9 and only 10 would do. Surprising actually.
I learnt a hilarious clause recently while reading my book. Within it, an army Officer calls addresses his subordinate, '...you're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?' to which he replied submissively, 'Yes, Sir'. That had me in stitches on the tube on the ride home which was both amusing and embarrassing as I tried to hide my amusement and look miserable as everyone else did around me.
I'm in a rather precarious place at the moment because my considering buying a motorbike with the inherent safety issues. One one hand I want the experience of being free and on the other I prefer not be killed by some careless fool on the road of which I have no control of. It really comes down to that. I've skirted around the edges with other reasons why I should have one but essentially that there is just here say. Don't really want a car. I want a motorbike. But I don't want dead either. Precarious is what is, very bloody precarious.
It wasn't too long ago since I did my last 10k'er at the gym - it was Thursday. I remember me running on the tread mill, half way in, rather bloody tired, sweating like a stressed convict as I contemplated if 6km was an OK distance to cover or whether if really needed to be 10k's that I did. While straining with my conscious, I noticed a rather pretty woman fill my periphery and then before my thinking had time to continue whimpering with compromises, it changed its tune and quietly whispered, "Shit, the pressures on now" and those 10k's were on now. I found myself pushing through the boundaries that were the 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th kilometres for someone I didn't know - but my conscious seemed pretty fond of her as it told me that 7km's wasn't enough nor was 8 or 9 and only 10 would do. Surprising actually.
I learnt a hilarious clause recently while reading my book. Within it, an army Officer calls addresses his subordinate, '...you're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?' to which he replied submissively, 'Yes, Sir'. That had me in stitches on the tube on the ride home which was both amusing and embarrassing as I tried to hide my amusement and look miserable as everyone else did around me.
I'm in a rather precarious place at the moment because my considering buying a motorbike with the inherent safety issues. One one hand I want the experience of being free and on the other I prefer not be killed by some careless fool on the road of which I have no control of. It really comes down to that. I've skirted around the edges with other reasons why I should have one but essentially that there is just here say. Don't really want a car. I want a motorbike. But I don't want dead either. Precarious is what is, very bloody precarious.