There’s no shame in puking at the end of a race if you ran your guts out.
You know, certain days are akin to walking around, hammer in hand, smashing yourself in the head with it over and fucking over.
Friend, the whole point is that you start that day and you byGod finish it.
Right about now I’m staring down tomorrow and growling, “You best not even think about it, motherfucker.” I guess that’s my way of telling you –if you had the same sort of shitty, nerved-up day I had– that things will be better when you wake up in the morning.
You have my permission to have beer for breakfast just to make absolute sure of that. Cheers!
3 worked it out »