The day has finally come. Day one. DAY ONE! Feels great just saying it. Just saying it though, because living it is a nightmare. I’ll give you a wee summary of it.
- 00:00 – Last drop – Drinking
- 00:30 – Bar Salsa – Drinking
- 01:00 – Sneaky Pete’s – Drinking
- 04:00 – Pizza Paradise – Eating & Drinking
- 15:30 – Home – Waking up hungover
- 16:00 – Home – Killing the hungover playing FIFA
- 18:00 – Home – Feeling shit because of the hungover and because I am shit at FIFA
- 19:30 – Gym – Humiliating myself on a running machine
- 20:30 – Grassmarket – Crawling to the flat
- 21:00 – Home – Eating unhealthy food as a reward
- 21:30 – Home – Not feeling my legs and updating this stupid blog
So, long story short, I got to the gym full of good intentions but evidently good intentions aren’t enough.
First I stepped onto a broken treadmill, then I had to wait something like ten minutes, ten neverending minutes, for a fat guy to get off the one he was using and when I finally managed to run the 3,1 miles I had to run I realized that the treadmill worked with kilometres and not miles. So, full of enthusiasm, I had to jump back on it and run 2 more stupid kilometres.
It took me less than half an hour to run the 5 kilometres I had to run and a lot of sweat and curses but apart from the not-feeling-my-legs thing I was pretty satisfied. Getting back home though wasn’t an easy job as I can’t still feel my legs now that I’ve been on the sofa for a good hour but I bought some nice greasy, fatty, unhealthy food from the chippy and I am pretty happy, all things considered.
Yes, happy. Especially because the gym was full of clunge. And that’s always good. Always good.