Through Pudding

Two miles, 8°, occasional raindrops, and truly leaden legs. Honestly, one wonders whether some malign dæmon creeps into my bedroom of a night and switches my legs out for a different pair, or injects me with an immobility potion. I planned a distinctly unambitious pace, but my actual pace must have been well below even my modest expectations. I was not standing still for two miles, but a passer-by might have been excused for thinking I was. I felt as if I were running through pudding (leftover pudding, from which some of the fluidity has evaporated and which therefore would pass the inverted dessert test).

Plans to go to the Bod for a time today, to stretch my legs a bit more, to teach them a lesson.

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