Sunday, June 04, 2006

Nobody should get up on Sunday morning - end of. More to the point, nobody should actually choose to get out of bed after an evening of trains, cocktails and screaming drunks, and then go traipsing across London to go running.

Which is naturally why OIR and I did so for the Race For Life. I don't get guilt very often, but I did when I saw it being advertised in the Metro a couple of months ago and signed up for it. OIR gets very excited in the tube on the way over and suggests that we sign up to do the half marathon. I break it to her that 13 miles is considerably heftier than 3.

Highly-tuned athletes. Honest.

Who I ran for. My grandma had cancer when I was small and the wonderous folk at Bart's sorted it out. My cousin is doing the chemo for breast cancer at the moment.

Where there is cancer to be researched, you will find morons with cameras.


Mel C. said...

Looking pretty hot there, sis. Oh boy, that felt kind of wrong. Really, really wrong. Don't tell mom!

phaeton said...

Sweet pea, Mom's already freaking out about the fact you're still nicking biscuits from the cookie jar even though you're now legally entitled to buy your own.