Friday 13th

I do like a Friday the 13th. Partly because it's the day that Izzy was born (in January 1995) but also because it's an opportunity to poke superstition in the eye. 

Not that today started that well. My alarming failure to nap late yesterday afternoon turned out to be advance notice of a complete lack of tiredness at bedtime and I think I only properly slept from 5am until 6am, and then I had the alarm of finding I'd suddenly put on nearly a kilo in one day. 

Rubbing my chin over breakfast, I wondered whether this all might be related to the medication and specifically the four doses of steroid I was given (the last one due to be taken this morning). Thus, I consulted my colleague Steve who, whilst never touching steroids, is an expert on all matters relating to exercise and nutrition, and he confirmed that both the sleep - or lack thereof - and the weight gain (from water retention) could be put down to the steroids. Phew! (Well, kind of phew.)

The rest of the day was fine; I felty quite back to normal and had a good day in the office. In the evening I ran Dan to and from Westmorland Youth Orchestra and it was then that I took this photo of the weir beneath Strammongate Bridge. 

****
-9.3 kgs
Reading: 'Are We Still Rolling?' by Phill Brown