I have been all over the place today. Mentally that is, not physically. I have spent a large proportion of the day feeling low and sorry for myself. Annoyed at my complete lack of willpower exercised over my diet (far too much junk and/or chocolate), frustration and a little bit of despair at the wedding (from bridesmaid dress issues to wondering how the hell it’s all going to go together), to just feeling sorry for myself. I suspect it is close to that time of the month.
I didn’t go out for a run last night, instead, going to one of my bridesmaid’s house for a chin wag and dress hunt on the internet (I have already bought my sister’s dress, but didn’t have the foresight to buy two dresses). After half a bottle of wine and about 6 Maltesers, I left feeling quite deflated (not at all my friend’s fault, just my silly self-imposed expectations – I haven’t much been enjoying wedding planning. A lot of things I thought I wanted to start off with, I now don’t, and it’s frustrating). I thought I’d get out for my run this morning instead, but didn’t. Even breakfast failed to rouse me from my self-pitying state.
I’d said I’d dog sit for my mum this afternoon. In preparation, I nipped to Tesco to get some raspberries and grapes to munch on instead of chocolate. As soon as I exited Tesco, the heavens opened and I got soaked on the walk to my car. Grr. As I hurrumphed down into the sofa at mum’s house, I gave thought to what might cheer me up. I decided that there is nothing like Spartacus to lift the spirits, and opted for Gods of the Arena. It worked for a bit. Dog was no trouble, and I left shortly after mum came home.
Tea was pretty tasty – we attempted a Lancashire hotpot (bung some cubed lamb with a whole packet of root veg and baby potatoes in with a stock cube, passata, a splash of Worcestershire sauce and a little bit of water into a slow cooker and cook for 8 hours). When I’d let my tea go down, I got ready to head out.
I started my Week 7 of couch to 5k, a 25 minute run. I’d somehow managed to lace my right shoe too tight, and had to stop to loosen it. I paused my Garmin while I retied my shoe, then set off again. 25 minutes later, I looked down at my wrist and confused myself – I’d run 0km in 5:49mins. D’oh! I forgot to press start again. Humph. Anyway, according to Mapometer, I ran for just over 3k, which gives me a rough 5k time of 41 minutes (according to my sketchy maths). I felt pretty good when I got back, and was looking forward to my porridge, following the recipe (kind of) from Peanut Butter Fingers.
How could peanut butter taste right in porridge? They don’t naturally go hand in hand. Well, I can confirm that it works! The texture is a little strange, but not bad strange, just unusual (but then putting peanut butter in porridge and eating it cold is a bit strange n’est pas?). Anyway, I’m sold on it so I shall be adding that in to my food repetoire going forward. I probably won’t make so much though, as it was very filling.
Finally, to bring my mood back down, one of my stupid cats started playing up, which involved some regurgitation (him, not me) – his alleycat winnings from our bin. I may change his name to Stig (of the Dump).
Here’s hoping for an improvement tomorrow.