I've come to conclusion that my body has an automated self-defense mechanism regarding exercise. I cycle intergalactic mileages, but retain my fuller figure owing to epic beer consumption.
Its like some sort of autopilot kicks in - I go to the bar, I try and say "I'd like a glass of iced water, please. With lemon," but instead "2 pints of your finest ale and a bucket of those distressing looking 'hot nuts' from the vat, please" comes out.
Whats that all about?
It happened again today. After doing a couple of little 4km runs, I came to the conclusion that my trainers were past their sell by date and needed replacing. The man in the running shop looked at them disdainfully and with the words "I don't even think our 'Shoes For Africa' charity will take these" disposed of them. The way he held them between finger and thumb and peered at them as though he had eyeballs in his nostrils was particularly impressive.
So I headed back from the running shop with a nice new pair of trainers and inexplicably felt myself drawn to a roadside burger bar. I never eat food from these places (except when, um, tired and emotional.) But my body knew that I was intent on a course of action for which it was not suited and took Steps.
These Steps consisted of a bacon cheese burger with extra fried onions and english mustard. Followed by fully leaded coca cola.
And now I feel faintly ill.
Curse you, evil Body! I will go running in the morning! Whether you like it or not!
