I ran 10 miles this morning out on the Town Lake trail. Thank god for the Red Bull I drank in place of breakfast and the coffee I washed it down with. I ran at my usual heffalump pace but the caffeine jolt meant I could converse with Jeremy, my running coach rather than just spluttering out the occasional yes or no answer.
At around 8 miles I shared some personal information with him in response to a pretty ordinary question about when I first came to the US. It was nothing blackmailable, and frankly I don’t think Jeremy’s the blackmailing type, it was just stuff I wouldn’t normally reveal without alcohol. Very un-British. But then I apologised to him for sharing the information. Very British.
I’m not sure that I burned enough calories for the burger I’m about to eat, but I console myself with the knowledge that the three glasses of red wine I’ve drunk so far is keeping my heart lovely and healthy. Throw in a few pitted olives and it’s almost a Mediterranean diet. And you don’t see fat Mediterraneans. Well apart from Italian women. And Greeks. And probably Cypriots by default.
If I could manage another 98 glasses a day then I’d be like those fat mice in the Harvard study that were as healthy as the skinny ones because of all the red wine they drank. This part of the story particularly impressed me:
“They lived just as long, and they were just as healthy and in physical tests, like balancing on a beam,” Sinclair says. “They did just as well as young, lean mice, even though they were old and fat.”
A fat old mouse on a balance beam – brilliant. I didn’t even know mice could do gymnastics, I wonder if they train in a little gymnasium run by Vladimir the mouse coach. I hope they’re taught to vault next.
“Similar tests to those conducted on mice haven’t yet been performed on humans.”
Why not? I demand to see a fat, sweaty, drunk man on a tightrope. In the name of science.
Minutes later. Post-burger and I’ve got a sweet craving. Trying not to dip into the bag of chocolate chips that Erik’s opened so I’ve popped an extra of my chewable calcium tablets. They’re sugar-free and strawberry flavored and now my bones are doubly strengthened for the day.
I’m watching ‘Making the Team’ on Country Music Television. It’s about the try-outs for the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders and it’s fun to see cute girls being yelled at, although I did get a bit weepy when one of my faves got cut. I suppose it’s slightly pervy to enjoy watching scantily clad lasses shake their butts while making suggestive movements with pom-poms, but better me than Erik. Yes, I watch gratuitous tit and ass shots so he doesn’t have to.