After dinner today, I set out on my self-assigned exercise regime.
Walking the one and a half km to the Portrush/Payneham roads intersection, then turning and heading home again. I did it yesterday and it went well.
But yesterday, I walked before dinner.
Today-after. This was a mistake, as it turns out.
I didn't start out immediately after clearing my plate, I waited a suitable amount of time.
Striding along, i-pod firmly in hand, mentally singing along, enjoying the cool of the prevening air.
About nine tenths of the way to the intersection, I started feeling a little uncomfortable.
Maybe I'd eaten too fast? Begun walking too soon?
Was I going to fart loud enough to stop traffic?
Oh no, this was more serious. I had to go.
So I cut the walk short, immediately turning around and heading for home. The same long distance that I'd just travelled.
By the time I reached my driveway I was almost sprinting in my hurry to get to the toilet.
Oh, my legs are going to complain about this later. You'd think they'd be complaining now, wouldn't you? Well, they are a little bit, but they always save the main whinge for when I'm lying down trying to sleep.
So, there I am, sitting on the most uncomfortable seat in the house, (bathroom's cold), when it suddenly occurred to me that if I had walked just five minutes more, I would have reached the Fitness Centre and could have used their facilities!
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