Repetitive weariness

Tonight I have dead legs. Having run about for three fruitless hours and with the team ending up losing overall they feel even deader. I reckon if we'd won I would've sprinted up the stairs at home and not done that groaning thing that I've noticed since I got in - every time I bend down, stand up, reach, sit down, pick something up... You get the idea. And tomorrow will be worse; there's a cheery thought.

Top cake tonight: Well, despite the match being at a very posh pavillioned club in deepest central Edinburgh, oozing wealth out of every corner of its lounges and lugshury changing rooms, the cakes were somewhat on the thin side. It was ok if you liked pretzels and cherry tomatoes, but the winner was the flapjacks, only because I didn't even try a crispie cake, the apple pie was pie and strawberries don't really count. Healthy, granted, but when you've wearied yourself out you need sugar, fat and carbs and lots of them.