In your face body! Mind 1, Matter 0!!

Just knocked off a five-miler and, for the first time, managed not to stop for stitches, leg pain, head falling off, or to find a projectile to aim at a passing car who can't work out how to turn off their full beams...

Listening to the chilled out pop-rock of Jimmy Eat World's Bleed American, I began at a steadier pace than normal, and managed to stick to it.

That probably sounds stupid, but it's been a real mental stumbling block for me - it's like putting a wet paint sign on a wall and wondering why there's a Phil shaped silhouette on it 10 minutes later!

Anyway, this mental discipline paid dividends, not only for longevity, but also because it was somehow synchronised to the traffic so I didn't have to stop at a single junction along the way!


After about a mile and a half there was almost an altercation with the worlds least sturdy cyclist but I deftly avoided a spokey pile up and kept plodding on.

In my head I kept saying, "just get to halfway like this and it'll be awesome!"

Then a less easily contented part of me said, "screw that - keep going you lazy t***! If you can't do it by now, you're a f****** clown*****r, who's not fit to eat the **** from a ****'s ****!"

Now, the latter part of me (lets call him Terence) doesn't come out much. So by the time I'd recovered from hearing from him, I was already on my way back.

At this point another bit of me (lets call him Montague) coughed politely and said: "Er... excuse me? Excuse me? I don't mean to interrupt, but you do know your knees and feet are in absolute agony don't you?"

At which point Terence found a metaphorical cricket bat somewhere in my subcouscious, and leathered Montague several times around the head.

I know you're probably wondering how something inside my head can itself have a head, but this was my drifting imagination, and these kinds of things happen in there.

Having both mentally defeated my bodily whinging, and gone someway towards scaring the bejesus out of myself, I was only a mile from home.

At this point, I figured, "What the hell, no point taking any energy back home with me!" and proceeded to cane it home.

The last mile was just over 5 mins - blistering pace from the pale northerner - and the overall time was alright as well, given the problems I've had this last week or so.

So I thought I'd share this feeling of "less disappointedness than normal" with you befor I jump into the shower and begin the inevitable descent into a giant lump of aching.

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