Pear tree. Contents: 1 (one) partridge#

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 12:18:55 +0000

There's a certain feeling of virtuousness one gets from having finished a hard workout: on top of the endorphins (or maybe caused by the endorphins) one comes away thinking "that made me, in some way, a slightly better person".

I've never really had the same experience from getting up early in the morning. Sure, you get to see the sun rise, and everything is fresh and bright and clean and lovely (well, everything except Bethnal Green, perhaps). And then the clock ticks around to 8 or 9am, the normal day starts, and all you have is the memory.

It's especially bad when catching planes. This morning I was up at 5:10am to leave the house and get the first Central Line train of the day; as we left Victoria on the train to Gatwick we could see the early morning sun and pink clouds. But by the time the plane was taxiing out it was 8:30 and, really, anyone can get up for 8:30. Even me, if I try.

Flight landed more or less on time in Olbia, and after Customs we were met by Enrico and driven to the hotel. After lunch we went for a skate around the bay (23k, I think) while waiting for the other participants (the Germans) to arrive on a later flight. Boots not hurting yet.