One track mind

It was my second trip to our new running track here in sleepy Northumberland. 'Its a bit special' is all I can say. Its got floodlights and lanes and everything and only a mile down the road. The club might even manage to re-produce some nifty runners of the likes of Weightman and McCormick in the next five years ney problemo.
Last night we did four sets of 400, 300 and 200m, knocking them out in around 72, 53 and 31 seconds and, by the end of the session, I was wraith-like...no energy, palid cold sweating complexion and a wee bit wobbly and other-worldly.
It was little better this morning when, still feeling knackered, I was faced with a breakfast crisis...3 tubs of marg all on the go. Two is bad enough, but a trio of fatty spreads. What next? Aunt Aggie says she's training for Rio. We don't know who he is and she can't tell us, only that he's coming round in 4 years. All she can say its 'Its amazing. Unbelievable'. Has she been watching too much tele?
I am wavering this weekend between a new and long fell race near Penrith call Howtown or a shorter affair at Philiphaugh near Hawick on Sunday. Looks like Penrith at the mo.
Mentally, I've adopted the 'semi-brailsford' in recent days...that is, I've taken myself apart and looked at my lifestyle and tried to improve each bit and then when each bit is sorted, I re-assemble myself and watch me go faster. Its only a 'semi' at the mo. as I still intend to eat chips and drink weak beer. The previously forlorn hope of a sub60 for 400m, though, is creeping back into my psyche. Maybe I will start training for Rio (or is that with Rio?)