Hot and Cold

Just over two weeks to go and with my weekend long run lost to snow on sunday. I need to up my game ahead of the Brighton half marathon. Race numbers have arrived, hotel is booked and the count down begins.

So, Monday or not, I hit the sludgy streets of Ealing en route home this evening. Besides the mounds of grey slushy snow and black ice, it was a balmy 3 degrees, so thankfully I retained the feeling in my fingers. No such luck for my toes, I accidentally hit a puddle or two, which is unpleasant at the best of times, but when the water is recently melted snow its freezing. Bone chilling cold.

The 5.5. mile run home is definitely getting easier, but its still enough of a work out to get the appetite raging. Getting through the front door I was delighted to smell the beginnings of a tasty chicken soup brewing in the kitchen. Perfect!

That is until R throws in an entire scotch bonnet. I still can’t go in the kitchen due to the excessive chilli, and that’s just from the steam. I suffered a major coughing fit and streaming eyes just from a casual glance in its direction. This stuff is hardcore.  I do love a bit of a kick in my food, but this, I would rather not inflict it on my insides. So hot soup and cheese on toast it is.

 Let the carbo loading commence!

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