Movember 2012

[Sweder]

Work is the curse of the running classes.
Three days of hard graft in the Dam have left no room for plodding, something I hope to put right tomorrow. The weather is foul, which makes the lack of opportunities all the more galling. I do like a good flog into a maelstrom.

Diet-wise I'm doing well, dodging the stodgier fare, opting for soups, salads and, of a lunchtime, something we will refer to as 'Fork Lift Driver's Stew'.
'What's in it?'
'Don't ask.'
I have tried a couple of Weiss biers but not much more than a thimble-full. I see this as not so much falling off the wagon as allowing my foot to drag in the dust. The problem I face is going to the pub after work and knowing what to order (apart from beer). There's only so much sparkling water with lime a man can look at in an evening. One solution would be to get out for a late night run. Easier said than done after a 14 hour day walking the halls of the Amsterdam RAI.

I've received my latest set of workout instructions from Julia, my fat burning guru. These look positively medieval but I shall get stuck in from tonight. There's no point in wasting the good work of the past five weeks.

On, on.