Yep, still fat

Pushed through (what should have been) an easy 6k tempo run last night. Yeah. I'm sore. That's not good, son. I really need to not miss any runs in the next month. Today we're starting speed training with the clinic but, because I am sans car, I shan't attend. I did email my clinic instructor to see whether we were supposed to do our fartleks (yes, I'm thirty and I can't say that with a straight face) on a track or over a ten kilometre course. He hasn't responded. I'm probably on his shit list for fat kids or something. I haven't been in a really long time - but I have been doing the work on my own! I swear to god! Ask those cyclists that passed by my repeatedly when I was doing hill training on my lonesome. Ah. No one loves me.
In other news I have one remaining piece of cake from dinner at my mom's place on Monday night. Cake rocks. Eating cake and not running is way more fun than not eating cake and running.
I'm reading a good book but am having a bit of a hard time with it because it has at least one critically serious implausibility to it. As a semi-aspiring writer I am a bit miffed that Tami Hoag thinks that just because she says something is so we must believe it. When a major scene unfolds upon which the book is hinged and the first thing that comes to a rational person's mind is "they really ought to go to the police with that", and they don't go to the police because "the police wouldn't believe them". I mean, come on. I need a bit more. Because, you know, fleeing a crime scene won't make anyone suspicious. Although I suppose if she had used my logic the book would have been four chapters long. Oh! Mistaken identity! Case closed. It's just irritating that an otherwise good read is so precariously perched on such a flimsy plot. Oh, how's my book coming along you ask? Pot calling the kettle black? Yeah yeah. One day you'll all worship me. I mean, more so than you do already.
I think I shall step out and by some gum.
How random was that?