The Melodeon Master is wonderful. He cooks my meals, looks after me when I do events, tolerates my weird and varied training times and shares everything on an entirely selfless 'what's mine is yours' basis.
And now he's given me his thoroughly snotty thick-headed cold. Gee, thanks.
So it's been a week of entirely non-training, apart from a quick 4k run with Freaky Running Dog on Friday where I puffed quite a lot, breathed through my mouth and listened to her squeaking on the twiggy bits.
I did the only thing I could do in a week of non-training.
I entered a triathlon.
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