Weary
The theme for this Christmas has been long walks.
A few months ago, when I wasn't obsessively writing in every spare moment of the day, I was quite fit. At my peak, I managed to run all the way up to the windmills and around the local mountain in a little over an hour - a distance of about eight miles and a climb of around a thousand feet. Not marathon material, but I could consider myself kicked out of the couch-potato brigade.
Yesterday, after a late and leisurely breakfast, the Horse Doctor, my elderly parents, four dogs and I covered the same course only at a walking pace. It took us three hours and at the top it was so foggy we couldn't even see the windmills.
Today my calves are lowing gently, my hips feel like they're filled with sandpaper and I'm filled with a weariness that could topple buildings. In short, I'm knackered. How did that happen?
On the plus side, Santa was kind to me this year, and soon JulieD will have a new clutch. Hooray!
A few months ago, when I wasn't obsessively writing in every spare moment of the day, I was quite fit. At my peak, I managed to run all the way up to the windmills and around the local mountain in a little over an hour - a distance of about eight miles and a climb of around a thousand feet. Not marathon material, but I could consider myself kicked out of the couch-potato brigade.
Yesterday, after a late and leisurely breakfast, the Horse Doctor, my elderly parents, four dogs and I covered the same course only at a walking pace. It took us three hours and at the top it was so foggy we couldn't even see the windmills.
Today my calves are lowing gently, my hips feel like they're filled with sandpaper and I'm filled with a weariness that could topple buildings. In short, I'm knackered. How did that happen?
On the plus side, Santa was kind to me this year, and soon JulieD will have a new clutch. Hooray!
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