Went for a wee run, there. I've been working on my running for a while now. I'm new to it, but getting some good runs under my belt. Tonight won't be going under the belt. Tonight will be forgotten about (unless you count the internet as a place where people regularly go to read stuff, which it isn't).
So anyway, a quick introduction. I was off today. Woke up early, about half eight. Watched a little TV, drank coffee, ate breakfast. Went into the bank to talk about my current account.*
Came home, ate something, went back into town and did a little shopping.** On my way home I was a little hungry. Swung by Subway. Not the healthiest option EVER but I live in Scotland, at least it wasn't deep fried. Figured I'd get myself a six inch something or other. Turns out I've not asked for a six inch in so long that I forgot how to and ordered a footlong Tuna.*** Fuck it. I've eaten more. Wolfed it down in less than five minutes. Beat my chest with my right fist and burped involuntarily.
So I made my way home, put on a wash and went out for my run. After eight or nine minutes I got a bit of a pain underneath my ribs. "Stitch", I thought. So I slowed down for a while and changed the foot I exhaled on. It worked before. It didn't work today. I sped up. It hurt more. I slowed down. It hurt less. But the pain didn't go.
And then it hit me. I knew what was wrong. It was that fucking Subway I inhaled earlier.
I needed to be burped.
But 25 (nearly 26) years of being reared properly had me way too polite to be able to burp on cue. So I limped home and told myself that noone would have to know about the time I had to cut a run short because I had gas.
Whoops.
* "Doin' fine"- Woman in bank.
** "And there's your receipt"- Girl in HMV
*** "You sure? It's actually 29p cheaper if you get a drink with it?"- Chap in Subway
So anyway, a quick introduction. I was off today. Woke up early, about half eight. Watched a little TV, drank coffee, ate breakfast. Went into the bank to talk about my current account.*
Came home, ate something, went back into town and did a little shopping.** On my way home I was a little hungry. Swung by Subway. Not the healthiest option EVER but I live in Scotland, at least it wasn't deep fried. Figured I'd get myself a six inch something or other. Turns out I've not asked for a six inch in so long that I forgot how to and ordered a footlong Tuna.*** Fuck it. I've eaten more. Wolfed it down in less than five minutes. Beat my chest with my right fist and burped involuntarily.
So I made my way home, put on a wash and went out for my run. After eight or nine minutes I got a bit of a pain underneath my ribs. "Stitch", I thought. So I slowed down for a while and changed the foot I exhaled on. It worked before. It didn't work today. I sped up. It hurt more. I slowed down. It hurt less. But the pain didn't go.
And then it hit me. I knew what was wrong. It was that fucking Subway I inhaled earlier.
I needed to be burped.
But 25 (nearly 26) years of being reared properly had me way too polite to be able to burp on cue. So I limped home and told myself that noone would have to know about the time I had to cut a run short because I had gas.
Whoops.
* "Doin' fine"- Woman in bank.
** "And there's your receipt"- Girl in HMV
*** "You sure? It's actually 29p cheaper if you get a drink with it?"- Chap in Subway
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