Quiet night in

My wife had her Zumba class this evening, which meant I couldn’t go to the track. Instead, I gave the girls their baths and then put Destroyer to bed. “No!” she protested grumpily every time I tried to get her to lie down, demanding I read her Matilda’s Cat, a book with a great paucity of words.

When she did finally lie down and stop “no!”ing at me, I snuck out to the sofa and ate Anzac biscuits my wife had baked today, and tried to book a hire car for our holiday in Portugal. This is made more complex by trying to determine if it’s cheaper to hire car seats for the kids there, or pay the extra to transport car seats to Portugal, or even if it’s better to hire car seats there and pay for the car seats at my parents’ house to stay in left luggage at Heathrow while we’re away so we can use them in the UK, or … so many possibilities.

An hour went by without me succeeding in this task, and then my wife came home, so I welcomed her then went out for my run: two ten minute bursts at 4:21 pace with a three minute rest in between. This was tough work, especially because on the second ten minute stretch I realised I might be able to claim a fastest time on Strava, so I sprinted for 13 minutes rather than 10 (and still came in a minute too slow). Still, although I had sore legs before I went out this evening, they’re fine now, and were fine throughout the run. It was my tired head and body that made me slow.

I got home, sweat beading my body and contemplated more biscuits. I’m lightheaded and feel faint now, but it’s almost midnight, which puts me in a quandary. To eat, or not to eat?

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