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May . . . the farce be with you . . .
Stomach development report: it's coming on nicely!
A week or so of late late nights downing all manner of ex-pat ale in Space City combined with lots of walking through hard concrete hallways and the occasional dalliance with fast food and TexMex has taken a heavy, flabby toll. Gone are the svelt flanks of the Paris Marathoner I used to greet in the shaving mirror; back is the lardy monster from whom I've been running these past few months.
Good to see my new friend LJS firing up a diary here.
There's nothing like new blood to get the juices flowing, and a fellow hillside loper is most welcome. Another 5 days (and nights) of bad living and I'll be back in my own hills, rummaging through spent pockets looking to pay the piper.
Guinness and treble chins all round!
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
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May . . . the farce be with you . . .
