35 sleeps + 60

I'm fighting again on 04 April - yay! yay! yay!

In preparation, I am picking up my pre-work runs with Mr Starke. If this morning is anything to go by, I've got quite a bit of work to do this next month. I picked him up at the usual time, blessing him with the musical genius that is ZZ Top, and we hit the Promenade. He was wearing his bling trainers again. Seriously, picture disco balls on your feet. Those are his trainers. He says that, at half off the ticket price, he can put up with the blinginess. (Fair enough - but can your run buddy?) Anyway, I hit my wall about 14 meters in. He set a brisk pace (well, anything beyond a crawl was a brisk pace for me this morning) and I managed to keep up most of the way. Then, with about 400 meters to go, he suddenly took off - sprinted - bounded - into the distance, like a cheetah chasing a dikdik, leaving me laying in a puddle of my own wheezing sweat and wounded pride. I must face it - Mr Starke now OWNS me on the morning runs.

But that's fine. As far as the fight goes, I've got a month to fine tune this body of mine into a machine of note. I'll just keep eating my spinach and practising my CrazyFace until I get it right.