I nipped down to the mill on my way to the pub the other night to get in an hour of secret training.
Adding to my satisfaction was a phone call toward the end of my session from Pete, who was already in the pub supping a pint.
I thought “YES! I’m in the mill, I’m getting stronger. They’re all out there drinking. I’m the only one here. YES!”
It was like being Jerry Moffatt (well kind of).
I pulled on for one last rep of my training problem and RIP! I tore something in my finger. Ouch.
There was only one thing to do – go and get totally wrecked in the pub. So much for training.
