Okay, so my boss says running is making me bolshy - just because I am always at him to do this or that. Well, it's my job, isn't it? Anyway, I think he may be right. I have written my letter to the editor of R4YL magazine and today I sprouted off via email to Adshel for pulling their ad for safe sex from Brisbane bus shelters following intense pressure from a Christian lobby group. Oh, and I signed a petition via GetUp to stop live animal exports. Next I need to fire off a letter to Ms Gillard suggesting she pull the troops from Afghanistan and, while I'm at it, something dire needs to be done to get the Gold Coast under control because it seems to becoming a hotbed of violence and crime.
Phew.... I am exhausted.
Could it be the extra pheremones swishing about in my blood stream? The multitudinous mitochondria formed in my muscle fibres? The sheer exhaustion of my intense training? To be honest, I feel fairly shagged pretty well all the time and now I have started having fitful sleep, my head full of fears of being late for training or other non-specific anxieties. Training on Tuesday was fr...frr...freeeezzzing! We had 7 x 1km reps with 1km recoveries and by the time I'd finished, almost two hours later, my mittened hands were numb and even grasping the coffee machine at Campos wasn't warming me up. Hey, maybe I should cut back on the caffeine....?
Oooo but wait! I haven't done my letter to The French Quarter "Resort" at Noosa, bagging them out about their poxy blankets. Got to go! See you!
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