By yesterday evening, on collapsing into bed, I had covered 10.74 miles. I ached. Climbing the stairs hurt, moving my arms hurt, turning over in my bed hurt!
So I made the monumental decision today to NOT go to Body pump. The thought of lifting a barbel over my head more than once was something I could not and still cannot contemplate. I’ve worked hard over the last two days, and while I may not get much of an opportunity for exercise tomorrow I’m sure I can cover a couple of miles in a brisk walk run session!
Was sorely tempted to pop to the Cathedral today, but if I’m honest I’m glad of the photos I get yesterday, and I don’t want to be one of those fans, causing stress and angst. And I’m loving the activity on twitter, the marmite feelings towards #setlock.
And my youngest son is now 9. And he needed a cake baking to celebrate it! A malteser one to be precise. Nigella’s malteser cake to be more precise. I had to get butter, and it took 20 minutes to defrost my camper to go to the shops to get the butter. I could have walked, but seriously, my legs have issues today, and are considering strike action as it is!
The cakes are now cooling, and shortly I shall make the icing, and that’s the sum of my day, pretty much. Birthday boy wants sausage pasta bake for his birthday tea, in the form of a ready meal from Sainsbury’s. Sometimes I have to wonder.
Mood wise, I can’t work out today. I feel wired but tearful. Does that make sense?