I pick up the boys from the kennels and they don’t look good. Both are a bit tubby even the skinny Lad. I take them on the park and then to visit my parents. A double dose of calorie burning.
I’m back at work on Wednesday where I’m pulled straight into a meeting. No one asks how awesome my holiday was.
L is enthused and promptly submits a entry for the Cleethorpes Half which is in two weeks time. It’s coastal but I’m afraid it’s not going to be as pretty as the Faroes. Then to prepare she goes and runs 10 miles with Daughter, I’m feeling well outdone.
Thursday I’m back on the bike and then playing tennis, indoors again. Friday I’m on the bike again and so feeling a bit less outdone.
Then I’m feeling a bit p***ed off as I get a puncture on way home. It’s quickly fixed but then my new pump won’t blow the tyre up, it just pulls the valve out which, oddly enough, deflates the tyre. This isn’t the first rubbish pump I’ve had and I’m so sick of picking pumps that don’t work.
(Friday 7th September)