I think I'm going to throw up

Yeah. So I totally got up at 7am today and I was really tired (having gone to bed at 12:30 the night before) and it was cold and raining when I looked outside and I said to myself, Mabel, I said... no wait, that's a joke from the Simpsons. I said to myself, "I am going back to bed. I am not going to run today and that's okay". And then my inner voice (I am going to beat my inner voice to death) starts with "Well when are you going to get the 32.5 kilometres in? You can't do it on your own. You have a fat ass and no discipline. Green isn't your color. And you're a bad cook". What?? So I put myself in the shower and tried to alleviate the searing pain that is my back and neck and then dressed myself and went down to the Running Clinic, only to find that about half the people bailed this morning. Well I guess that makes me extra special. Or extra stupid. Not sure which.
Ran the allotted 32.5 kilometres which is now my longest run to date. Three cheers for Duder. Oh, forget it. I'm too tired to raise my arms above chest level. The run went really well. Don't ask me where we ran. Where didn't we run? I don't think we hit Seattle. Jesus. I feel good except for the stabbing pain and utter exhaustion.
Got home. Ate. Fell asleep on the couch (my new favourite past time, at which I have become most adept). Visited Michael for dinner. Sat on his deck in the sun and started to fall asleep again. Turns out that he accidentally ran close to 30 kilometres today, too. It's funny to think that one might "accidentally" do that, and yet it happens. To very naive people, apparently. Ate far too much at dinner. Then had a lot of dessert and I'm really, really full. If someone were to pick me up and shake me, all sorts of badness would occur.
Right. So I shall go to bed now. I would try and be more witty and engaging but, um, bite me. And if you don't like that answer, suck it.
Yeah. Harder. And a little to the left.