Next time, please remind me not to agree to stupid things when I meet my colleagues by the pub for a little afterwork. Please.
So, what did I agree on? Oh, shivers run through my body when I think of it. I agreed to run the Gothenburg semi-marathon "Göteborgsvarvet". Or, look at it this way: In a couple of month's time I shall run 21 km while competing with tens of thousands of others. Shit. I'm dead. Oh. Ran 13km yesterday, my first trial so-to-speak, and today... My left foot aches like hell, my legs can hardly walk down stairs, my right knee makes strange noises and hurts... well... a little. I'm dead. Soon.
Just promise me one thing. On my gravestone, don't write any bad puns like "He liked SCRUM, but did he have to sprint to his death?"
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