Aaargh; my thighs!

I went ice-skating on Tuesday night, and I can say with a clear conscience that I burned off the curry that I ate beforehand. Oh, and the half a naan bread. And the two glasses of red wine. Funny really how I have no idea how to stop when having a good time, and I completely forget about the fact that I had to get out of bed and stagger up to work the following day.

Last night I went for a run with the Corporal. Ran out of Veg/Nom Towers, to the park, for a couple of minutes and something was wrong. Very wrong. I headed home and changed into the sports bra.

Suitably attired, I met the Corporal for a 25 minute mud run; I can confirm that the battle against stitches was ON...RRRRRAAARRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!! and he did not succumb. Well, not entirely, although his form was a little off.

But then again I didn't go swimming this lunchtime. The Corporal wins. Nom is full of cold and shouldn't be let near exercise. Fromage is AWOL, presumed in bed.