Tuesday 27 March

To paraphrase the sage of the mountains, the man won one day, the mountain won the day after. Such was certainly the case during the weekend when my body let me know how over-matured my bacon self was. At least most of the soreness had gone away when I had the rare chance of going running at lunch time today. I only did 4.1 miles in 30:30, and while I'm not too concerned about the mile splits at the moment, it's nice to do a few less-than-8-minute miles, especially after a hiatus. It's warmed up a lot since last week. It was 60F today, and 40F five days ago. I concentrated on maintaining a suitable and continuous pace for that length of time, which I achieved, although I was at times a little distracted by recurring evil thoughts towards the two women who nearly ran me down at a crossing, and then laughed about it. They stopped seemingly for me to walk across, then stepped on the accelerator. Initially I gave them the benefit of the doubt and thought it was an error due to a lack of concentration, which was forgiveable, but I should have said something there and then. I'll remember next time. And sorry, folks, I don't feel the slightest sense of guilt at flipping them the finger as they laughed and drove off. I was in that sort of a mood. I think everyone should maintain a little bit of an evil streak in them for appropriate situations. I do.

I expect the next victims of my mood to be attorneys. We are involved in legal wrangling that is so draining. You mention something to someone, they agree to do it, and when it's time for them to get back to you weeks later, you have to call them, only to find they haven't started and were waiting for you to hassle them into action. I don't really want to go into details again because it's so draining to think about it, but I know what I want to do. When all this is over, I'm going to subscribe to magazine catalogues, junk mail, anything you can think of - in some attorney's name, and let them deal with the junk on their doorstep. I'm going to send them poo through the post. Spill wee on their doorstep - things like that. But by far the most devilish thought of revenge that's crossed my mind is to send them some pork in a jiffy bag with a note using newspaper cutouts that spell "YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?". I'll also gladly welcome other suggestions.

I wish I lived a hundred years ago or generations back - I think people then were more cautious about the things they said, and gave guarantees less freely, unless they knew they could honor them. All this "yeah, yeah, I'll sort it out, I'll handle it" which results weeks later in nothing really annoys me. But I suppose we all procrastinate in different ways - mine has to do with running.

More weights this evening and tomorrow. Actually, the great thing about being out-of-shape, is I only have to do one or two sets of anything to feel some results, instead of twenty. Hooray for sloth!