For some bizarre reason, I decided that it would be a superb idea to go jogging this morning.
Hilarious. The good news is, I don't think I did any permanent damage. I even managed not to throw up. I didn't actually get too far before the tightness in my chest was almost at heart-attack proportions, but still - every little helps, right? The upshot of the whole affair is that when I came home I immediately threw away all my cigarettes - fuck that. I must be out of my Goddamn mind. I mean, according to just about everyone, if I want to lose this gut I've got going on, I have to cut out the beer and start jogging. I mean, I eat healthily enough, I tend not to have too much crap in my diet (although the crisps have got to go). I just need to cut down on the lager and, so I'm told, go jogging - but I have to stop smoking.
I'm far less fit than I thought. Wasn't that long ago that I was free-running all over town, or so it seems, but now I come to think of it, that was a good few years ago.
I'm thirty now. I hope it's not too late.
EDIT So now there's a "like" button on Prosebox entries. We're Facebook, now, are we?
And the circle-jerk continues...
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