Thursday, 18 October 2018
Lazy, and down, but less fat
So, I got into a bit of a post-race funk. I did not come out swinging; life, I felt, kept leg-sweeping me, and I could not stay on my feet. This was compounded by Millie Dog's cancer diagnosis in July, followed by an op to remove a tumour, followed by the cancer returning two weeks later, followed by her going on ahead. She said she'll wait for me though, so I told her when I get there, we'll play all day and run all night. And I had a post in my head, but as soon as I bring her up I forget everything and can barely function. Fuck it.