The Belly’s Gonna Get You

Ok 10 days – 10 solid days.  24 hours in each of them and I didn’t run once.  Not once.  I even dramatically cut down my steps every day aided by the fact I was teaching and not on pool side for 3 of those days.  Surely that was going to be long enough to get rid of the issue in my butt.

The day was set.  Schools were off (are they ever on?!) and my mum was having Oliver so I could get out and get it done.  10 miles.  That’s my aim.  This is going to be BRILLIANT!  10 pain free miles, including hills, pushing on the down hill cause I love to scare myself and almost fall (not so great when a little pee comes out but hey, it happens).  The route was planned.  I would catch up on all the miles I had missed in those very long 10 days.

Then my mum said she was staying in town so running to her house didn’t really work.  Ok.  No problem.  Different route then.  Hmm.  Well, to be honest, 10 miles might be pushing it.  Probably not the best idea to push that out just in case it pushes me back and deem the rest completely pointless.  Ok.  Up the river then.  And it feels good I ‘could’ always add on the extra (and by could I obviously mean I’m 100% doing 10 miles but trying to fool myself that I am not).

Oliver happily waddles off with his Nanny having not seen her in a little while.  Lucie (my daughter) has only just got out of bed in that typical ‘I’m a teenager I need to sleep’ state.  Ok.  T-shirt and shorts.  Where’s my shorts?  WHERE’s my shorts! HOW do your clothes go missing so quickly when you don’t wear them?  For goodness sake!  Can’t find them and the other pair are currently swirling round the washing machine.  Sake.  Ok,  I will try out my new adidas leggings.  Oooohh these are nice!  Little bit camel toe but no one should be looking there! Really comfy though (not the camel toe part, I can’t feel that, just looks like that).

Garmin on and I opt for music instead of a pod cast because this WILL be a great run!  It’s going to be all flying through the air with grace and speed.  There may even be rainbows.  Off I go.  Yup.  It’s awesome!  I feel great.  Little tricky breathing but that will settle down.   Pants appear to be falling down though (thank goodness I don’t run in a skirt).  I discreetly try to pull them back up – and by discreetly I mean I ram my hand down and yank them up so I now have a thong to go along with my camel toe.  I’ve opted for along the river which is flat because I know I love it further up.  I get to one km (this used to be my original 5km route when I started running so I know where every kilometre is ha ha).  Hmm, stomach is a bit funny.  I did do my pre run visit though so all should be good.  Maybe it’s just the Trek bar I had last night, it had chocolate on the top.  I get to a mile and have to stop.  I have to stop!  Nope, this definitely isn’t just a bit of chocolate.  It’s one mile!  Come on!

Ok back off running.  That was just a blip, ignore it.  8mins 20 for your first mile is still better than what you have been doing.  Half a mile more and my stomach is cramping.  What the actual hell.  Nope nope nope I will run it off!  No no no you won’t Ella!  I’m stopped at mile 2 again.  Every single human in the world is now looking at me wondering if I even know how to run as I am spending more time resting than actually moving.  Even those at their desks working away can see me and are just staring.  Paranoid much.  Ok get moving.

Mile 3 and I have to sit down.  Head in my hands.  Curled up in a ball.  I check my phone to see if Joe is nearby.  Dunfermline.  He sends me a photo of the golden post box.  I choose not to tell him I am out running and in need of a lift home due to a sore stomach.  I consider phoning my mum but I know I could get home faster by myself.  Do I really want to walk though?  Am I honestly going to walk when I should be running?   Not a chance.  I stand up and realise I have of course sat in mud and now look like I have poo’d myself.   Just another thing to add to the list.  Fantastic.  What’s next?  My sports bra breaks?  Let’s not joke about these things.

31167689-877D-4E31-BD5D-3F1F4D5BB13A

3.5 miles and it’s another stop as I’m convinced I’m about to throw up.  The smell from the abattoir is most certainly not helping.  Note to self, if you ever learn how to run again don’t come along the river anymore.  It is actual death.  Although if someone could kill me now I’m not sure I would object.

Onward’s I go in my camel toe, pants falling down, mud that looks like poo on my bum state of athleticism.   Aren’t I setting the perfect picture example to all around.  (Which thankfully is no one even if I do think I’m on the Truman Show – is that a camera on that tree?).  I’m stopping constantly but my goal is 4 miles and then I will walk home.  2 miles is too far not to run so I force myself to go to 5 miles switching tactics and putting a pod cast on.  It’s a guy that has walked across the Antarctic in 54 days unsupported.  Well don’t I feel bloody pathetic!  I’ve stumbled to 4 miles and am doing the whole ‘I can’t go on’.  Suck it up.  I plod along eventually making it to 5 miles, pace has gone out the window – obviously – and keep going to stop and walk but instead….just keep going.  Stubbornness.  Pure stubbornness.

I get home and lie down straight away.  Lucie asks if she should phone Nanny.  What a mess!  I tell her no it’s just a little sore stomach, nothing much.  ‘I thought it was your legs that hurt mum?’

My legs!  I haven’t felt my legs – or my butt – at all!  Well just a little in the hamstring but nothing really.  But then to be fair I wasn’t exactly running.  So it wasn’t really a good test.  Still, I’m taking that as a positive.

So that was that.  My first run after 10 days rest which should have been all rainbows and smooth flying but was instead cramping soreness with god only knows what going on with my bottom half – no leg or butt pain though!

Who said running was boring?

Advertisements

It Didn’t Feel Good

How much crap can one person honestly have thrown at them?

Bucket loads! Truck loads even!

And I fear there’s more to come…

I just got turned down for an interview for a receptionist! An interview. I didn’t even get an interview!! For a receptionist!

Wasn’t even a prestigious place. I’m reliably told the wine there is crap and it’s not somewhere many would recommend. Truth be told I had completely forgotten I had even applied. But that’s not the point. No I don’t think I’m ‘too good for the job’ but I could do the job. Guess they’ll never know.

What an insight into the job seeking world. What an eye opener I’ve been getting. I’m still traumatised by the job centre. And I’m still applying for minimum wage paid jobs because they are just the teensiest bit related to what I really want to do.

I had an ‘interesting’ conversation with the woman who is taking my first course at the end of the month. I phoned to pay the balance (education is expensive people, stay in school!) and I could not help myself blurting out ’em, everyone’s not half my age on the course are they? I mean I’m not going to be like the granny at the side?’

She found this hilarious. And on reflection thank god as that could have gone drastically wrong! She said without checking dates of birth she couldn’t say but generally there’s a bit of a mix. Mostly young people but you do get older folk.

End goal Ella. Focus on the end goal.

And as for my running? Here comes the truck.

5 full days of no running. I was climbing the walls. I was icing, swimming, yoga-ing my ass off. The morning of day 6 I pulled on my shorts and t-shirt, laced up my trainers and headed out. The plan was to test it for the first mile and if all was good carry on for 3.

Not even 100 metres and it was sore. Nothing had changed. 5 days and nothing.

Obviously I complained on my instagram instantly.

A couple of people suggested that, given where the pain was, it could be hamstring Tendinopathy. I googled it. I cried. A lot! 3-6 months recovery.

At the chiropractor and I was instantly on it. ‘I ran this morning and it still hurt. It’s been suggested it’s this hamstring thing. Could it be that? The pain seems to be right where that is.’

‘Hi Ella how are you? What happened to not running until Monday?’

Oh yeah, may have missed that. I just wanted to test it on Friday though. And as for my manners…..

‘Sorry, sorry, it’s just getting to me a bit. Hi,how are you?’

She then showed me why it wasn’t the hamstring thing by pushing on exactly where the pain was. Too high for it to be that. Adjustments followed – she shot me in the neck with her adjuster! – and gave me some stretches. I’m back Monday. No running.

It wasn’t until I was walking out that I realised she had, in the most politest of ways possible, told me to stop googling. How did she do that?

So lots of ‘not so feel good’ moments this week but if life was easy it would be boring. To keep me focused I have written out my marathon training plan on a huge piece of paper that will be pinned to the wall ready for when I can get back to it. I’ve taken the plan straight from the book of a well known marathon runner. I will tell you about my library visit later. (Mortification honestly).

And of course next week is our wedding anniversary so hopefully we will get out for a nice meal and then we have a little trip away. Life could be worse. Let’s be honest.

Walking Dead

This week I’ve been like a zombie. A barely walking zombie. And I don’t know why.

I’m not doing more than usual – in fact, I’m probably doing less! I don’t feel ill either I just feel exhausted. Thinking about it this is usually a sign somethings on my mind and as per the norm, it’s preventing me from sleeping.

So I’ve turned to the treadmill.

What?!?! The treadmill?? Why!!

Laziness if I’m honest. You can stop at any time on a treadmill and you don’t have to ‘walk back’ anywhere. There’s no ‘suck it up buttercup you’re still 2 miles from home!’. You’re at the gym. The cars outside. It’s easy.

5 miles on a treadmill is not easy though. Not for your mind. So I need to stop that and get back outside. I have had 2 runs in the fresh air this week – one with my running buddy and one on my own after I messed up at work and needed to get out. Today was the treadmill again though. I could barely keep my eyes open at my desk so I went for a run to try and insert some life in to my soul. I was convinced it would work but alas it did not and after nearly smacking my head on my desk in one of those free falling nano seconds of dropping off motions you get I decided it was time to go home.

On the plus side the tiredness in my legs seems to be easing slightly. I really don’t need that when I’m about to start ultra training.

I look shattered

56 miles – what ever obsessed you Ella?

I’m missing park run on Saturday as I’m working but the other half and I are doing the Mo Run on Sunday and we are going to dress up for it! Something fun to end the year on now all our serious races are done.

And Monday brings the clubs AGM. Where I hopefully find out if I am selected for a London ballot place. To say I’m nervous doesn’t even come close. Shaking with hysteria flitting between incredibly excited and depressed as sin isn’t far away from the truth. As they say though, what will be will be.

Then to end the year – the Santa Run! Who doesn’t want to run down your local high street dressed as the big bellied, white bearded grandad?!

So hopefully this tiredness does a Brexit and leaves. Preferably sooner rather than later.

I’m sure some Christmas Carols will help with that.

Losing The Battle

Defeated. That’s …. well …… that’s ……. almost how I feel about Jedburgh Half Marathon. I was very, very, very nearly defeated.

Let’s see how it panned out.

Joe came along with the youngest and unfortunately it was a quite a drive. ‘Why do you always have to do races that are so far away!’ was the general topic of conversation in the car. Luckily Jedburgh turned out to be a pretty awesome place and he found lots to do or the drive home may have ended up one person short!

I had my porridge and banana. I had my water. I had my trainers and socks (left and right, very important) and I had my chest bandaged up and my new sports bra on.

I didn’t have my gels or my clif blocks. Bugger.

‘We could find an Asda’ Joe said. I tried. I failed. I had no nutrition to take with me to help me run 13.1 miles. ‘I’ve ran most my half’s without taking gels or anything, I’m sure it will be fine. It won’t be that that causes me problems.’

Famous last words.

All registered and I quickly dived in for the team photo – didn’t miss it this time! This was a championship race so the Green Machine were out in force. It was also an out and back race so lots of opportunity to encourage others along the way. A quick chat at the start line and we were soon off.

There was a very gradual uphill at the start and when my first mile clicked in at about 8 minutes I quietly congratulated myself. ‘Well done for not going off too fast Ella! Well done!’. The first few miles were steady and everything seemed fine. No pain, no discomfort, just fine. ‘You might actually see that finish line before it gets dark!’ I said to myself. I think I got to about 5.5 miles before the lead runners starting coming back the way and I concentrated on spotting the green vests so I could shout the ever useful ‘well done’ to those clearly putting in more effort than me.

Pace Ella, it’s all about pace for you.

As I headed towards the little circle part for the turn around I started to feel a ‘pulling’. Not great. I decided it must have been the wind (in what world does that make sense?!?) and tried to readjust my bra a little, giving the area a little nudge as if to say ‘get back in there’.

As I was having my little wardrobe adjustment I spotted a woman at her window waving very enthusiastically so I waved back grinning. This kept me smiling for about half a mile, she was just so energetic!

On reflection she was in the warmth and comfort of her own home, she hadn’t just ran over 6 miles and she could sit down when ever she wanted. Still. I appreciated her effort.

Past the 8 miles and I started to struggle. Just a little bit but I recognised the signs. Breathing was heavy, it hurt to take a very deep breath, my legs were very slightly beginning to get heavier.

‘Come on, 5 miles left, that’s just a lunch run, you can do that’ – I desperately tried to motivate myself. ‘Get to 9 miles and it’s only 4 more from there which is only 1 mile more than parkrun. You enjoyed Parkrun this week. You’ll be fine, come on.’

9 miles crept past and I felt like I was losing it. If only I had remembered my gels I would definitely had taken one, if not two! When have I ever had 2 gels whilst running? Never, but that’s not the point. Well actually it is because a gel isn’t going to help your chest at the moment or your breathing.

This internal arguing carried on and on and on by the way. At one point it was full blown swords drawn at dawn you’re going down love! Don’t worry though, I survived it.

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t move. I was barely putting one foot in front of the other. I saw the 10 mile sign but I stopped before it. My rule is I have to go past a mile marker sign before I can stop when I’m struggling but that was blown out the water. Clutching my chest I tried to take a deep breath to settle everything down. It just hurt. Didn’t do anything productive. My legs were now just solid lead. Two tree stumps refusing to move along in a timely fashion. I could hear them saying ‘we’re in no rush’.

Yeah no sh!t Sherlock, I noticed that a mile back!

Right. Can I do this? Can I make the last 3 miles back to the start? Do I have it in me?

I will tell you what I DONT have in me and that’s energy! Should have brought your gels.

How is that helping right now?!?!?

I shuffled my way along, one ear bud in because the other didn’t work, playing – and let’s be honest here – really crap music.

Ok, let’s change it up. Find a decent song and get a decent pace going.

I settled on Justin Bieber.

Wait, wait, I have my reasons ok, just hear me out!

When I was in London last year – not running the London Marathon, hmmf – we went to Madame Tussaud’s and one of his songs came belting on and I loved it. My daughter loved it, my mum loved it, it just reminds me of a really happy time. So yeah, Justin Bieber.

It worked. It got me moving just marginally faster than a dying snail but moving none the less. Every Marshall I went past asked me if I was ok and one asked if I wanted to stop. It wasn’t until afterwards I realised I was gripping on to my chest and looking like a contestant in a gurning competition so it must have been quite a sight! Elite athlete I am not!

Eventually, after hours of pretending I’m a runner, I make it through those last 3 miles. I. Need. A. Seat.

I look like I’ve just ran 50 miles at a 6min mile pace. Not 13.1 miles at over a 8min mile pace. Most of the Perth Road Runners got pbs on the route. I did not. I finished. Just.

It’s frustrating because I needed a certain time for club standards (oh yes, there’s never just one goal is there) and knowing most people found it a fast course kills me a little inside. But. It is what it is.

Clearly my best side ha ha 🙂

Was it the lack of gels? A friend at work had an interesting theory I was using that to try and ignore the reality of being ‘knocked about a bit’. She could be right. Or I could just be a really crap runner right now.

There’s one more championship race left and I don’t want to walk away from it disappointed with how it’s gone.

Maybe I will use Christmas songs to keep me going this time? Now there’s a thought!

The 2 Mile Wall

‘Yeah, you can run, not a problem.’ Said the doctor. This is the doctor who used to live in my house. Well let me to you this Scott! Yeah I remember your name! I will find you. I will hunt you down and I will make you fix me so I can run properly again!

Liam Neeson ain’t got nothing on this injured runner!

But. I’m not even injured. That’s the worst of it. This thing is in there for at least 3 years. If it comes out earlier it means they are putting something else back in. And it’s that that I am trying to avoid.

I tried my first run 4 days after it went in. I didn’t even make it to a mile before I stopped. My sports bra kept rubbing against it and it looked like the wound was going to split open. There was lots of stopping. My planned 4 miles turned in to just over 2 and my other half found it very difficult to go at such a slow pace. When I got back I sat outside fighting back the tears from both the pain and the frustration.

The next day I bandaged it all up, changed my sports bra to a more adjustable one (Brooks, bought at Loch Ness Marathon) and set off by myself – nothing but pure determination forcing me forward. There were still multiple stops so I could wince and grimace but it was slightly better. I managed 4 miles but admittedly that was too far. It was too painful to do anything the next day.

Wednesday I went out again. I set off and just as I hit the first mile I was smiling – it didn’t hurt as much! This I could handle! 2 miles clicked by and still I was ok. Then just as it hit 2.1 it must have moved or something because all of a sudden it was painful. It feels like there’s a solid box only being held up by a thin layer of skin bouncing away on my chest. For someone with no chest, this isn’t a feeling I’m used to! By 3 miles I was considering phoning to get picked up. By 3.5 I had stopped completely – finger hovering over my phone. Was it time to admit defeat?

But it hadn’t hurt at the start – so surely that means it’s getting better? I set off really slowly, face completely screwed up in pain but determined to get myself home. I very carefully chose songs to listen to that I knew would help me – and I got home. 5 miles done.

The next morning my friend Lorner was going out so I joined her. She’s skipped a few runs lately for her own reasons so we both knew we were going to be slow. It wasn’t a great performance and again there were stops but it was good to chat. It was easier at the slower pace too. I still couldn’t really manage anything that resembled a decline (which surprisingly seem to be absolutely everywhere now – when did that happen?) but it was good, even better with a friend.

Then there was Parkrun. A simple 5k – or at least it used to be a simple 5k. I knew it was going to be a test. I had to start further back, not try and go out fast, just relax.

Didn’t work. Didn’t sodden work in the slightest.

I gave my keys and jumper to Lorner who was volunteering with her eldest (how awesome are they?) and went mid way in the pack. I think I got to about 400 meters in the run before the claustrophobic feeling started to cave in on me and there were just too many people. I sprinted through resisting the urge to flap my hands and scream ‘get away from me!’.

It wasn’t a great idea.

I charged through the massive puddle and had a giggle to myself. I swear water is out to kill me! Thankfully, this time, no water wings were needed – I was going too fast ha ha.

Shortly after I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Brian who often comes down with his dad. We chatted a little but I had absolutely no spare breathe and he quickly went on ahead. I’ve found my runs this last week have been hard both on the chest thing and also on my breathing – I’m not happy about this. I can’t afford to lose what I’ve gained when I haven’t hit my 3:45 on a marathon yet.

There’s a trail section at Perth Parkrun and if I’m honest I’ve never been a fan of it. I just can’t seem to get any speed on it. It certainly wasn’t happening now. I couldn’t clutch my chest because I needed two arms to prevent me falling (how do people run with a broken arm? I’ve seen it many times, but, how?). Holding my chest alleviates some of the pain as I can ‘hold’ the monitor and prevent it from bouncing. So it hurt like a mother f@cking b!txh at this point!

Teeth well and truly gritted together I stumbled my way back to the path. There’s a very, very slight decline as you come back on to the park further on and at that point I almost had a screaming match. If it hadn’t been for the massive puddle which I could take my frustration out on (think Rihannas video to Umbrella but more Tom Holland’s version!) I would have called it a day.

Finally across the line and Lorner gave me my finisher token. I didn’t even look her in the eye as I could feel the bloody tears starting to roll down my cheeks. It wasn’t even a fast run!!

Gillian came over to say hi (and check I wasn’t about to drop down dead haha) and we chatted about her recent marathon and her new found love of coke. First ever marathon and she absolutely smashed it! I need to start chasing her when this settles! Get my elusive 3:45! (She was way under that by the way!)

And it will settle. I know this. But no, I do not have patience for it. I have a half marathon next weekend and for the first time ever I honestly don’t know if I can do that distance. Hand on heart it will be touch and go if I make that finish line.

But at least I still have a sense of humour about it. (See what I did there? Hand on heart? Heart is the problem I have?).

Post Marathon – Recovery and Blues

It’s been a very ‘strange’ week for me.  I decided to take my recovery seriously this time, particularly due to the abdomen pain I experienced but also because my foot situation got infected and resulted in me taking a knife to my toe in the middle of the night to relieve the pressure.  Apparently just sticking a plaster on it wasn’t enough.

So I’ve been in the gym stretching it out like a good runner girl and rolling the pain away with the foam roller.  Amazes me how something that gives you so much pain (and yes, I’m talking tears) ends up making you feel so much better.  I know I have a rotated pelvis from a previous physio visit so I’m now writing out a plan to improve my core.  I used to joke about the pain saying it was just my abs screaming to get out but now I guess I better at least try and open the door for them.  I have only been on the treadmill twice this week and neither times were a distance worth mentioning but the niggle in the hip was there so I took myself off for a sports massage.

Not really sure what to expect I had a look online and figured ok, it might hurt a little but it’s good for recovery and I do need to look after myself a bit more.  I read that the women usually manage to dig in really deep with their figures and elbows to manipulate muscles and release tension.  I’ve had 3 kids, how sore can it get?

I sat down in the waiting room and started thinking about what I needed to do the rest of the day.  I was just having a glimpse at the magazines when I heard my name.  As I looked up I was confronted by possibly the biggest guy I have seen in a while.

‘Hi, im Bradley, if you’d like to come with me we will just get started’.

My body had an enema then and there.

No, sorry no, I would not like to go with you.  You will actually break me.

But of course I did.  My legs somehow moved of their own accord and dutifully followed him – probably because all of the blood was draining from my face down.  We went in to the treatment room and he took some background from me then it was on to the table to have a look at my hip thing.  A quick twist of my spine and it lined up better.  Can’t complain.

He asked me to take my socks off.  ‘Eh, I’d rather not, I’ve got a bit of a manky toe’.  His face clearly agreed he was on the same page as me – sock stayed on.  

Yeah it was a little sore but only a little.  No more than the first day on the roller if I’m honest.  And it worked wonders.  He didn’t break me as first predicted but that serves me right for being presumptuous and thinking it would be a small women.  Not the first time I’ve gotten it wrong – I still remember my first swimming lesson and again expecting a women (do men not work in sport Ella?! ) and it turned out to be a young lad!

So this weekend I volunteered at Parkrun again as my club did a bit of a ‘takeover’ and filled all the volunteer spots to encourage more people to get running.  There were a huge number of pacers so a great many pb’s are expected.  I’ve not tried my hand at pacing yet, not so sure I would be any good at it.  


And that just leaves me with this ‘lost’ feeling now.  I loved Loch Ness but there’s a part of me that feels I didn’t really accomplish much.  I know that sounds utterly ridiculous given it was a marathon and it was also a PB for me – what more do I want?! The answer is I don’t know.  It wasn’t easy, I had to work for it, especially in the last few miles, but overall, I don’t know.  

Would signing up for another fill that void?  Its hard to say.  Do I want to push and go for a ridiculously hard time? Being the fastest isn’t what drives me to run. There’s a marathon not far from here in 2 weeks time.  Is it possible for someone who is a beginner at this distance to do 2 in such quick succession? Could that be the challenge I’m looking for? Or is it just Marathon blues at the moment – who knows.

I’ve got until next week to decide.  

Hips don’t lie

Never a truer word spoken (or song sung ha ha).  I’ve had an ache in my hip since the Tay Ten.  It went away for a short period but it came back just before the marathon.  I was running ok and my last long run was fine.  At running club the Thursday before Edinburgh though it was niggling too much and I found myself skipping some of the drills.  It felt like I was almost dragging my left side.  

So after Edinburgh I knew I had to get it seen to.  I made an appointment at the physio and headed down, not really knowing what to expect.

Some typical questions ‘what exercise do you do’ , ‘what’s your occupation’ , past medical history etc etc.  I explained the ache and how long it had been there.  She explained that’s not my hip it’s my back (easy mistake if you ask me).  She asked what I was hoping she would be able to do.  I explained I didn’t really know what a physio does I had just been told I need to see one.  As you can tell, things were going well. 

I stood up and she looked at my hips and back and very quickly discovered I had a rotated pelvis.  ‘Oh I think I knew that, I had it when I was pregnant – could barely walk.  I presumed it had just gone though’.  She found this fascinating.  Unrelated to the problem but interesting to her.  She tells me I have one leg longer then the other.  Again I think I’ve been told this before but I had also thought pretty much everyone had this.  Turns out not to this extent.

On to the table and she gently pokes at my back.

I practically jump off the table.

This happened when I was pregnant.  I could have killed the physio then.  Had I not been too fat to move.

It turns out to be my Quadratus Lumborum muscle which is severely tight.  The next 10 mins are filled with my tears and screams as she tortures me claiming she’s relaxing this Harry Potter character in my body.  

She doesn’t by the way.  I walk out in severely more pain.

I’m told heat will help ease it and I’m met with amusement when I explain I have been using ice. ‘It’s not inflammatory’.  I don’t have the heart to tell her that – again – I don’t know what she means. 

A quick Google search when I get home and I educate myself on what’s wrong. It amazes me how it explains exactly how I had been feeling.  

Harry Potter deleted scenes

Amazing

It’s going to be a full week of lots of stretches so when I go back next week it’s not so painful! Hips don’t lie.  Not when it’s actually you’re back that hurts ha ha.