It’s a great film, Wargames, if you haven’t seen it. It’s about a young High School kid who manages to hack into the US Defence system and accidently nearly start World War III. That’s an amazing feat when you look at the archaic hunk of shite home computer he’s using. More technology in a phone these days. I know I’m not really selling this well, but it’s got Ally Sheedy in it and we all need lots of Ally Sheedy.
Get on with it. Ok, there was a point. I loved this film as a kid, and apart from the accidently declaring Nuclear War on the Russians, it’s really a film about the young flicking their Vs up at the set-in-their-ways-think-they-know-best older generation. I used to laugh at that line about 41, but in a ‘yeah, what a bunch of old twats’ kind of way.
And now I’m 41.
And I think the 2020s 41 is very different to the 1980s 41. My Mam had a perm at 41 that made her look about 60. I think most people’s Mams in the 80s did. 41 is no longer ‘old’. They used to say life begins at 40. Try saying that to my Grandad who’d been down a pit for 20 odd years by that point, and only lived another 20 years. I don’t think the phrase has ever really been true until the last couple of decades. There are so many opportunities to be healthier, exercise, and live longer. Although, I’ve told my wife that if I’m proper knackered just unplug me.
So, 41 isn’t old. I love you Ally Sheedy and I always will. Maybe not as much as Phillpa Forrester, but you’re still wrong. Therefore, this 41 year olds goals are…
2022 Goals
Update the notbuilttorun website a lot more – Haha, unlucky suckers. I’ve noticed though, I tend to go through a flurry of updates at the very start of the year and then the very end. So really, update it more consistently.
Run Every Day (RED) in January – We’re not as lockdown tastic as we were last year, so life might get in the way. However, I’m currently 14 days in and apart from my grumbling Achilles (standard) we’re well on track. Until said Achilles pings.
Run 1,000 miles – 3 years running I’ve hit this, the last year with 200 miles in change. As long as I avoid injury and illness, I should hopefully hit this again. At my current rate, I’m projected 1,144 which I’d take all day long and then some.
Get a PB – I didn’t get any ‘outside’ PBs last year, but still managed some Zwift/Treadmill ones. My find the need for speed on the Treadmill and get some inny ones. I’m also counting Strava Segment PBs, so surely there will be one in there somewhere? (Spoiler Alert – I’ve hit some in the first 14 days)
Run a Half Marathon – Of course I’m in the GNR September, Number 11, and it’s back to it’s original course. As an aside, if it is back to it’s usual format, this will be the moment I decide life is back to ‘normal’. The Sunderland Half is on the 8th May. It’s tempting.
Run longer than 13.1 miles – I tried this last year, I didn’t do it. There is no fail, only try. I failed to try though. The goal is still to get to 16 miles by the end of the year. My thought is to attempt it after one of my Halfs, while I’m still in ‘the Zone’. Whatever zone that might be.
300 miles on Zwift- Ah Zwift. I’m not sick of it. Yet. March to Dec 2021 I logged around 300 miles. That seems like a good and achievable number to aim for. We like achievable stuff, it brings balance to the force caused by the probable failure of the goal above..
Run on Holiday – I’m supposed to be in sunny Menorca in May, a holiday now 2 years overdue cos of some global pandemic or something. Like a sad sack, I’m taking my gear for a bit of Balearic sea breeze and beer sweating.
Remainin Employment – People to feed, bills to pay, trainers to buy.
Avoid catching/passing on COVID – Get super boosted. Wear a mask rat lickers.
Piece. Of. Piss.
I hope everyone’s 2022, running or personal, goes as planned. Or a good unplanned at least.
Remember, 41 isn’t that old. But if you see me in a nightclub at 2am, you have permission to shoot me.
Come out to the Coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…
John McClane
I signed off the 2020 Xmas Special with this gem:
“Just think, for all the people you love that you can’t see this year, there are twice as many bell ends thatyou can now avoid. Every cloud and all that. Predictions for next year? 2021 can’t be shitter than 2020. JINX.”
Well, I was half right. Although, to be fair, I thought 2021 was a definite improvement. It didn’t start very well though did it. Back in to bastard Lockdown. Happy friggin New Year indeed. I went back to working from home (which I personally hate) and a sense that we were stuck in some never ending cycle of pandemic purgatory.
As the year went on we did manage to see more normality creeping back in. I got back to the match, the ice hockey, and the pub. Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and all that.
Back in the last Christmas Special I set some running related goals for 2021. So, how did that pan out..
2021 Goals (and how they went)
Renew the notbuilttorun.com domain – Of course I did, or you wouldn’t be here. This has been my best year for traffic as well for some reason, and the site is now worth a magnificent £700 quid. They cant get enough of me in China and Turkey.
Run Every Day (RED) in January – I did predict this would be a piece of piss due to Lockdown, and I was right. 122.3 miles completed, it turned out to be my highest monthly total of the year. My Achilles hated me though.
Run 1,000 miles – Going well this. I’m currently at 1,248 and will probably finish just shy of 1,270. That despite niggles, injuries, and battling through periods of motivation issues. Always a huge personal achievement, especially when you’re as old and broken as me.
Get a PB – Nah, not a chance.
Run a Half Marathon – Yes. Yes I did. The GNR was back and I managed to get through it in sub 2 hours, despite the running Gods conspiring against me. Read about it here. I was also supposed to complete the rearranged Sunderland Half Marathon in May. However, no Baggage area and no one allowed to come with you made it a logistical mare, so I pulled out. One instance where I think an Event was desperate to go ahead but didn’t really think it through. I don’t blame them though, it was early doors and it was very much suck it and see.
Run longer than 13.1 miles – I was determined to do this in 2021, but for whatever reasons it just never happened. Technically, I ran 13.4 at the GNR, but that doesn’t count. Maybe 2022. Manana manana.
Run a Parkrun – Nope. Move them to Sunday mornings and I’ll think about it.
Buy a Zwift Pod – Yes! And it changed my life. I finally got one in Feb, after Brexshit delayed the shipment of the Pod. I wrote a piece on this magnificent bastard, which you can read here.
Remainin Employment – Busier than ever, glad I don’t have to work from Home anymore (it’s shit, you’ll never persuade me otherwise)
Avoid catching/passing on COVID – Looks like I did. Although, I’ve had two of the worst colds of my life this year. Anyway, keep masking up and get Vaccinated you rat lickers.
So, I don’t think that went too badly did it? Predictions for 2022? Well, you’ll have you wait for the New Year Special (ooo, the cliff hanger).
I did finish my predictions for 2021 by saying that running had kept me sane in a world that has gone slightly mad. It really had, and it continues to do so. Keep running people. Physically and mentally you’re doing yourself the world of good.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and as this doesn’t include anywhere near the swear tally my usual posts do, I’ll end with fuckety fuck fuck. You fuckers.
I’ve posted a blog about the Great North Run before. It’s here is you want something to help send the kids to sleep. If you can’t be arsed to read that, and who would blame you, to summarise: I basically run the GNR every year and am a great fan. And there are lots of hipster twats who hate it. Because they’re hipster twats.
You may have noticed that shit loads of things got cancelled in 2020 due to the Panny-D. The GNR was one of them. Quite rightly too, when you think about that time in September it should have been on we were having a second wave big enough to down a Japanese Nuclear Power Plant.
So the big question for 2021, apart from why have we not publicly guillotined most of the Tory Cabinet by now, was if and how the GNR would be on. Early on, it looked a bit ropey. Noises were being made in the local press in the Summer that the uncertainly of the Viralshitshow we were currently in meant no-one was willing to insure the event, in case it got cancelled or hit by a falling Russian satellite or something.
Eventually though, we got the news we’d all wanted. It was on. Usual date. Different course. And oh man did the predictable bed wetting whingers bash their keyboards.
Beholdeth the new course
They changed it to staggered start times, with a there and back route that finishes feet from where you start. As a one off. During a Pandemic. And people lost their shit.
‘It’s not the real course.’
‘This is Brendan Forster trying to move it out of South Shields and keep it in Newcastle. The bastard.’
‘My (insert child’s age) year old will be so disappointed, even though they weren’t running it as they’re only (insert child’s age) years old. It’s ruined Christmas to be honest.’
Wankers.
After the year and a bit we’ve had, coupled with the fact that the GNR looked more doomed (spoiler alert) than Bradley Coopers character after the first 10 mins of A Star is Born, then I think the whinges and criticisms probably need a nice cup of shut the fuck up.
Anyway, it was on, and I was ready. Well, I was ready, until potential disaster struck exactly two weeks before. Dog owners, I’m not picking you on here. I come across a lot of Dog walkers on my runs, the vast majority are spot on. But if I ever have any problems out on a run, it’s usually with a dog. And this particular Sunday, I did.
I went out for a gentle recovery run, with my daughter on her bike, where we encounter on one of the paths through the fields a lady talking on her phone with a rather bouncy dog in tow. Said dog takes one look at us, flies full pelt in our direction, and goes smashing into me. I feel my ankle go straight away. As I lie on the ground groaning in agony, it was lovely to see the dog walker lady continue her phone conversation, quickly put her dog on the lead, and scarper away.
Not a ‘sorry’. Not a ‘are you ok?’ Nowt. She was obviously embarrassed by what her dog had done and therefore decided to deploy the tory voter protocol of ignorance and avoidance. I ‘thanked’ her for her concern (‘you absolute arsetwat’) as I lay prolapsed and in pain.
The ankle was not good. I hobbled home and it swelled up. To say I was pissed off, would be a huge understatement. The positives though – I had done the training. Plus I’m a Northern Male. My stubbornness knows no bounds and I would have run the GNR with a limb hanging off claiming it was merely a slight muscle strain.
2 weeks rest, 3 layers of strapping, several packets of Ibuprofen, and prayers to various forms of religion (even Satanic) and it’s GNR day.
The instructions for the day were exactly as I expected. I was in the Orange Wave with a 10:45am to 10:55am start, and told I must get into the new Holding Area part (the Town Moor) at least an hour earlier. Very much military precision.
As I’ve mentioned before, the great thing about the GNR is that the start is just round the corner from my Mother in Laws. Because of the out and back, this year the Finish would be as well. Result. Baggage area? Ha! In I strutted ready to run. I knew I had to head in the direction of Cow Hill and wait to be let on the course, so even though I was 45 mins early, I plodded off (the strut had faded) in that direction.
When I got there it was very Hunger Games, lots of eager folk disgusted they weren’t in the earlier Waves staring at the electronic board hoping the whole thing can just crack on a bit quicker. And wouldn’t you know, my Wave was up on the board. The strut, was back.
Through the gate onto Cow Hill (it’s usually a Hill with Cows on ok?) I hear the familiar dulcet tones of Alan ‘Get to the those phones!’ Robson. Local DJ. Local ‘Legend’. Local Bellend. He’s been relegated from the start line this year, and instead they’ve plonked him on Cow Hill doing his usual shtick of shouting out diseases and looking like he dressed himself blindfolded.
I avoid eye contact and suddenly realise I’m about to get on to the Central Motorway and therefore head for the start line – a full half an hour early. A bloke saddles along side me and asks if this is right. He’s got the same start time as me and he’s worried this is all a trap and we’ll be kettled into a pen and beaten for coming down too early. ‘Fuck it, let’s find out?’ I say, so we head to the Start Line.
On the way I see my family on the bridge above. They take this amazingly artistic photo of me with Trap Guy who keeps mumbling ‘this isn’t right’, so I decide to ditch him by pretending to tie my shoelace.
Arty iPhone shot – I’m the one in blue, next to the chap who wants to glow in the dark
We get to the start line – like literally at the start line – and it’s pretty strange. There are about 30-40 people sort of hanging around waiting. Being British and unable to think for myself, I hang about for 5 minutes. I then realise this all seems a bit off, so approach a Steward to ask him what the craic is. Apparently, this is going much better than they thought and I can just start. So, at 10:32am, about 15 minutes before I was supposed to, off I fucked.
The course is really quiet. I mean dead quiet. I’ve never had so much room on a GNR. It appears that the start went so well, they just said ‘fuck it’ and let all of the Orange wave just go. So by the time I get on it, it’s just the last dregs of the Wave going through. There are also very few supporters by the side of the road. As the start is staggered, there are still a couple of more hours until everyone goes, so there’s no rush for people to get down here and cheer.
The ankle meanwhile is holding up. I had already decided that I would be slowing the pace down slightly. It was all about the line and not the time. Finish in one piece and pain free were this years GNR goals.
The first 6 miles go as normal as any GNR does. Although, it’s the same route so it should do. I feel great, the ankle is grumbling a little but nothing that is worrying me. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure how far I would get on it, so every mile completed is a bonus. My pace is steady but despite the clear route this won’t be anywhere near a PB for reasons already explained.
We turn at 6 miles and this is where it gets interesting. I know quite a few people who completed this GNR, from the real speed demons to the middle of the packers (current member) to the happy plodders and they all said the same. Christ that last 7 miles was a killer.
Having said that, it was all going swimmingly up until mile 9. I got past Gateshead Stadium, then it suddenly dawned on me. The Felling Bypass has a geet big dip in it at the start. We went down that dip at about 2.5 miles. What comes down, must go up. Now my ankle starts groaning, more like the whining my daughter does when I announce it’s time for bed, but definitely letting me know it’s unhappy.
The last 3 miles are the best and worse part of the run. This year, for the first time ever, we’re actually going to run through the City Centre. But we’re going through it from the River back to the Town Moor and, if you know Newcastle, that’s uphill baby. The last part of the Central Motorway into the centre is a killer and defeats quite a few people, but I battle on despite the ankle pain that’s now getting worse. We then head past one of the City’s most iconic landmarks, Grey’s Monument, and I turn on beast mode for the camera.
Beast Mode Activated
We get onto John Dobson St and the ankle is seizing up now, so I pull to the side of the road and stretch it out for 10 seconds then kick on. We’re now coming round the Civic Centre, past Haymarket, past my match day drinking den of the Crows Nest (clamming for a pint) and onto the Great North Road for the last straight mile. My ankle is proper knacking now and I’m running through the pain rather than it being a niggle. I have to slow down but I’m really not arsed, I’m about to hit 13 mile where really I’ve only had to stop once to stretch it, when at 10am that morning I wasn’t sure if it had 5k in it.
As I close in on the finish I spot the family in the crowd. Seeing them at the start and at the finish is usually unheard of. They take another arty shot of me. Sorry, of my back.
‘Quick, quick, take a photo of hi…shit.’
Note to the right of me in that photo is the 1:55 pacer. I spot him and can’t believe I’ve managed to sub-1:55 this. And that’s because I haven’t. He started later than me. I cross in 1:58:08 and I’ll take it all day. I note my Garmin says I’ve run 13.32 miles. So technically, if you’re a picky bastard like me, I actually hit 13.1 miles in 1:56:17. Either way, it’s a miracle.
It’s a beautiful thing
We’re funnelled (although the guy at the start probably thinks this is the kettling he feared) into the Finishers Village and I head to be fed and watered at the wonderful St Oswald’s Hospice tent. Job done.
Can I be controversial here? Of course I want the old ‘normal’ back. All starting together, having the proper course back, finishing at the iconic South Shields sea front. But you know, this had a lot of great things going for it. The staggered starts were great. Although, if you were in a later Wave I imagine it might be frustrating to wait so long to start. Plus, volunteers put in a long shift. The course being less congested was great. To finish where I started and be able to see my Family easily at the start, during, and end was great.
But you know, this wasn’t really the GNR. It was in name, but it wasn’t really. They did a great job to get it on and I enjoyed the novelty of running through the City Centre. Maybe we can have a Newcastle Half Marathon in the Spring?
The point is though, like a lot of things over the past 2 years, I just want Normal back. Extra Normal.
“R2-D2, you know better than to trust a strange computer.”
C-3PO
Look at me, using a Taylor Swift song pun in my title. Down with the kids.
Before I start, let’s deal with the Elephant in the Room. I work in IT, I have done pretty much for the last 20 years. In my previous job, I spent over a decade going out into the Community and encouraging people to use Technology. Digital Inclusion it was. I don’t want to get Hipster, but long before Barclays shameless way to shut physical banks hijacking of the campaign with their Digital fucking Eagles bollocks, I was one of those underpaid and underfunded knackers wandering around community centres making sure everyone had an email address and could Google something.
What I’m trying to say is, my career has always been about encouraging, embracing, and persuading others to use Technology.
Which brings me to Zwift.
I’ve waffled on in many past posts about my love/hate relationship with Treadmills. Well, my treadmill. The saviour in terrible weather or child care issues, as well as doing you more good that you think (after I finally started using mine, I knocked nearly a minute a mile off). Lets face it though, they are boring as shite.
I’ve tried different ways to battle through this treadmill monotony. Watching old football DVDs, listening to podcasts, putting my favourite music on. None of which have worked. The only method that has had any success is Cheese. 80s or 90s Cheese. I’m talking Lionel, I’m talking Wham, I’m talking B*witched. I don’t know why, but having Take That’s ‘Never Forget’ blasting through my headphones makes 3 miles of running on the spot go much quicker. But even that can get tedious.
So in my quest to sex up Treadmill time, I signed up to Zwift. If you’re a runner or cyclist you probably already know what it is. If you’re not, I’ll keep it simple. You download the App, attach a Bluetooth device to your running shoe, sync it up, then run on your Treadmill. You then get to go into a world that is the running equivalent of Grand Theft Auto.
Having downloaded the App onto my iPad and creating an account to have a quick nosey (and to make sure it wasn’t proper shit) I then decided it was time to order whatever it is I have to attach to my shoe to get this show on the road. There are several you can use, but Zwift do their own, which they call the RunPod. I opted to go for this rather than other models. I’d like to say it was because I checked the spec, weighed up the pros and cons, read reviews, but it was literally down to it being cheapest.
Still, even at ‘cheap’ (£37.99), they charged me an eye watering £7.50 delivery. Was it arriving Club Class from the US or something? Well, no, it was coming from Amsterdam. Although, as it turns out. shipping it from the US might have been quicker and cheaper. I had to wait 2 months to order it. I’ve said before I don’t like to get political on here as it annoys people, but let’s just say our ‘wonderful’ decision to cut our losses and leave a Trading Block completely ballsed this up. I think you catch my drift.
Anyway, for those of you still left reading and not storming off to type in Caps about cancel culture, it did come and it’s tiny. I’m not talking about the narrative of my first sexual encounter in the 90s, but the RunPod. As that box cost £7.50, I refuse to hoy it out.
The RunPod with it’s £7.50 unbreakable protection. That Amsterdam Ferry crossing can get canny rough, especially with some of those tanked up Shields lasses on.
Like a kid at Christmas, I couldn’t wait to get cracking with this. The set up instructions are simple. Put the battery in, clip it to your trainer, sync it to your device (it my case, an iPad). So far, so good. I calibrated it by running three different speeds – slow, medium, and fast (titter) and I was ready to hit the pixelated pavements.
But where can I run? Vice City? San Andreas? Well, it’s kind of GTA but without the mowing people down in cars and shooting hookers bit. Zwift has one permanent ‘World’ that you can run round every day, it’s called Watopia. Every time I hear that I get Laura Branigan’s ‘Gloria’ in my head for some reason. Ask your Dad.
Watopia is loosely based on a couple of Islands in the Pacific, Teanu and Vanikoro. So when you run virtually on Zwift, the GPS pops you here on Strava. It’s obviously not the real islands that you see, but a made up magical world of giant bike statues, a beach resort with pier, giant blimp, and a large erupting volcano. That’s right. An erupting volcano.
Running through a massive bastard volcano
As well as this island, you also have a number of ‘Guest’ locations that pop up on various days of the week. These include the French countryside, London (turns your snot black), Yaaaarkshire, and my personal favourite – Central Park, NY NY.
What’s not to like? After 6 months of usage, not a lot thankfully. So, let’s look at the good, bad, and the ugly. Disclaimer – bad and ugly are the same as I’ve no imagination.
The Cons
The pod can be a bit glitchy and even drop out. Sometimes it takes a while to ‘warm up’, so I can be going hell for leather and it will jump between fast and plod.
As it’s global, but US based, I find the time of events are more skewed towards our American Cousins. Fair enough you might say, but when you only have a certain running window, that’s a bit shit
It’s full of Americans.
Well, it’s not outside innit.
The Pros
When it’s pissing down of ran, blowing a hooley, or meteorites are falling from the sky, it’s a cracking option
It links to my Strava (and tonnes of other platforms) instantly, because if it didn’t happen on Strava, then it didn’t happen ok?
There are loads of social events and races you can sign up to, making it a bit more interesting.
My pace is now unreal due to the above, as testosterone and tribalism take over and I virtually fly past a cocky America while flicking the Vs.
The Verdict
Cracking. A triumph. I’m proper hooked. I’ve mentioned before that Treadmill running can be a drag and a slog, more so than an outdoor run because, frankly, you don’t actually go anywhere do you? Zwift adds that extra dimension and motivation. Whilst I’m still blasting a bit of Encore Une Fois on my headphones, I’m also transported to Central Park, or London, or some made up Island in the middle of the Pacific and running with randoms from all over the world.
And that’s pretty fucking amazing, when you think about it.
I’ve been sitting on a blog post draft for nearly 10 months now. In a nutshell, it was a massive whinge about how my running had suddenly gone to shit since I turned 40. It was me complaining about how I was finding it hard, lacked motivation, had picked up a injury that I couldn’t shake. It’s working title was ‘Fuck off February.’ I finally just took the ‘fuck it’ approach and published it in November.
What a 1st world problem snowflake I turned out to be. I write this in May June mid July late December where we are 428 weeks – I think, fuck knows – into an alleged half arsed ‘Lockdown.’ Now, I’m not going to get political in this post. I have some fairly strong political feelings but this is a running blog so won’t be boring your bollocks off with that. Plus, well, politics is a pretty emotive subject. Especially on social media. By emotive, I mean you post a political opinion, and someone from the opposite leaning tells you to fuck off.
So, I won’t going down that rabbit hole.
Anyway, February was terrible, have I mentioned that? I turned 40 at the beginning of it and honestly, I properly wasn’t arsed. I didn’t make a big thing of it, no big party or giant clown badges. I even managed to keep it quiet at work. Well, no-one asked. I know this makes me sound like a right anti-social bastard, but I’m not really. I have a good circle of close family and friends but I’m just not showy. I don’t go round broadcasting stuff and saying ‘look at me! look at me!’ I’m even shite at keeping this ‘look at me!’ blog up to date.
I wrote about how shit my February was here. This all seems like 1st world problems with hindsight, but I did chuckle at a re-read of my last paragraph:
‘I have two races (snigger) coming up. North Tyneside 10k in April, Sunderland Half Marathon in May. Unless something dramatic happens between now and then, I’m going to be in nowhere near any kind of shape to run them’
Because something dramatic did happen.
Half arsed Lockdown. The world shut down as we all were instructed to avoid humans we did and didn’t know in case we lurgy each other.
Luckily, or unluckily however you look at it, I had my ‘trusty’ treadmill. A battered and sweat covered Reebok number, well over a decade old now and still going. I spent the first two weeks isolated banging out daily 5ks on it whilst listening to some dubious song choices.
Two weeks later, I decided to venture out for my first ‘proper’ run. Let’s be honest fellow runners – take out the apocalyptic, economic, and health disaster of this whole clusterfuck – but early half arsed lockdown was quite an enjoyable time to run wasn’t it? Someone on Twitter told me off for saying that. But it’s true.
I was out every morning during April and it was bliss. No people, no cars, it was fanfuckingtastic. I ran on the road without the worry of ending up flung over a bonnet.
My Races got cancelled. The North Tyneside 10k was the first to go then the Sunderland City Half, and finally – after a lot of procrastinating and general pissing about – the GNR toppled.
I worked from home for 4 months, avoided Furlough and Redundancy, drank too much coffee, and grazed on too many things that make you fat. But boy did I run. Controversial off topic opinion – working from home is shit. Long term I worry about where it’s going to leave us as a species. Similar to the fat hover seat humans in Wal-E probably. When I was working from home, I did on average 25 miles LESS walking a week. That’s about 1,200 miles less a year. That’s not healthy. We’ll be fat as butter as a nation within 2 years.
Despite knowing it was going to be cancelled, I trained for the GNR anyway and ran it virtually, hitting a bizarre half marathon PB in the process. It helped keep me sane. In fact, running has kept me sane in 2020. In a year of restrictions, running has been my freedom. All of us who had running before lockdown were lucky to have it as a way of escape. Plus, it looks like many more have discovered it. For all the cancelled Parkruns and events, running is probably as healthier than its ever been. Weird.
So, what does 2021 have in store. Well, it’s the year Mad Max was set in. That’s all I’m saying. For me though, there’s allegedly at least a 10k and two Half Marathons. Will they go ahead? At this point, who knows. What I learnt in 2020 is that it doesn’t really matter. Running isn’t about medals and t-shirts, it’s about keeping your head and your body right. Here endeth the sermon.
So, make sure the strangest Christmas you’ll probably ever experience is a Merry one. Just think, for all the people you love that you can’t see this year, there are twice as many bell ends that you can now avoid. Every cloud and all that. Predictions for next year? 2021 can’t be shitter than 2020. JINX.
Notbuilttorun.com 