We’ve been a bit busy what with one thing and another. Yesterday,  Sunday morning we got up, had coffee and decided to tick off a few jobs before running. At around eleven I realised I wasn’t going to make it to our run (which at that point was planned for midday) without breakfast so I paused for some muesli.
The day ticked along, it had reached seven o’clock and we’d got plenty done. Unfortunately lunch and running weren’t on the list of achievements. There was also a distinct lack of water.

My stomach felt like my throat had been cut. Beloved had offered up a meal out and short run afterwards as the perfect end to the day.

Warning signs should have flashed, but the bulb must have blown.

I consumed, with gusto, a bacon and cheese burger in a brioche roll with sweet potato fries, coleslaw, far too many onion rings and a pint of beer. The only saving grace was that I resisted pudding, I admit it, that was only because no one else was having any, otherwise I would have crumbled.

Feeling quite satisfied and a little merry we dashed home to change and get out before it got too dark.

Arriving at Bawsey as the sun was going down. Still plenty of time for a two-mile trip around the lake.

It was beautiful. A cool breeze, the golden light streaming through the trees and a pint of Adnams muddling my senses.

The first three-quarters of a mile went swimmingly. The next half a mile was… Okay. After that it when down hill rapidly, culminating in the most sickening last couple of hundred yards. The alcohol induced bounce in my step abandoned me completely leaving, lethargy, cold sweat, rising stomach acid, shaking legs and an almost overwhelming desire to vomit. I really felt like I stumbled the last few steps.

The stunning sunset did lift my spirits, but not as much as the fact that I was in the car, sitting down and heading home.

It took plenty of fluids, a fruit and protein smoothie made by my beloved and a little lie down before I felt close to right again. I’m never doing that again. That was stupid.

Shelley