The world was suspiciously quiet this morning. And I wasn't up THAT early, leaving the house about 10.30, but there was hardly anyone about. It was like the reverse of a normal day when everyone else is at work while I am in bed. Like a really odd version of Freaky Friday.
I cycled down to Hammersmith, the first time I have got on my bike since
the day I was nearly knocked off. I think, without realising it, that that incident had shaken me up a bit.
I, was almost certainly, the least hungover I have been on any January 1st morning since probably about 1980 and my resolve paid dividends as I managed to get the treatment for the possible book about turning 40 done by lunchtime.
I then headed down to the gym, determined to get my new regime off to a good and sweaty start and wondering how many other people would have made it down there. But I was disappointed to discover that the gym was closed. On New Year's Day. That's like closing a suicide booth on Valentine's Day. Surely this would be their busiest potential day, where loads of people sickened by their debauchery would be knocking at the door, at least wanting to sign up to join. But I suppose that only idiots want to come to the gym on the 1st January. Everyone else would still be out having fun celebrating the new year.
So I went home for my healthy lunch of fish and salad, before heading out for a 3 mile run instead. Imagine if I keep this up every single day. What would become of me?
But it was a happy start to the new year: it felt good to be productive and my body thanked me for the break from the punishment I have been giving it, even if it slightly objected to the run.
And it will be at least two days without alcohol - only a few of you have had a guess, so I'll give you til the end of the 3rd to make a punt, as I suppose many of you didn't get to your computers today. There will be some cool prize for one of you (just one, I have learned my lesson, managed to do a few more envelopes for the 5 year comp, but still so many to go!). At the moment I feel like I could happily never drink again, but by the end of the month it might seem a bit harder to stay off the sauce. We'll see. I feel positive at the moment, and am determined to prove the people who have predicted I will be drinking by the 6th are incorrect. Oh ye of little faith! I usually manage at least January and sometimes February and once I got to mid-July (and lost two stone - so maybe that's something to think about). It's definitely going to be over two though.
