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When I (finally) went to sleep on Wednesday night, I had no idea of what was to come over the next three days.
Thursday, a day I had not been looking forward to. District Schools Athletics Championships. Now, there’s no doubting that I’m proud of getting into this 4 years in a row, and I like the fact I’m one of the fastest in my school. However, I always detest this event, and that’s mainly down to my stomach. And yes, my stomach went through a hellish day on Thursday.
Over the next paragraph or so, I plan to describe how my stomach felt.
I woke up, nervousness. I get nervous about using the phone, so you can imagine how I felt about this. Tried to eat, felt sick. Got on the coach with friends, felt normal. Got to Gloucester Park, felt nervous again. Got myself reading and found out when my event was, felt normal. Lining up for 200m race, EXTREME nervousness. The race, couldn’t even feel my legs for the last 50m. Came third, went straight to the toilet. Nausea. EXTREME nausea. Threw up everywhere, with rather a lot of boys standing outside the toilet. Damn, humiliation. Got back to ‘base’, hungry. Ate, felt sick again. Lining up for 4x100m relay, extreme nervousness and nausea. Ran race, came second, felt fine. Lining up for relay final, extreme nervousness. Came second again, felt better. Got home, felt hungry so ate. Ate a lot. Finally, went to bed.
I threw up because I have some sort of problem with a valve in my stomach which makes me feel sick whenever I sprint, especially after feeling nervous. Doesn’t mean I can exactly enjoy my favoured sport.
Anyway, finally got that hellacious day over and moved onto Friday. Much better, and my stomach was feeling okay until around 7pm, when I was going round to my mates’ place with a few other friends. At first I felt a little nervous, just about how it was going to go, but of course it was fantastic. We had a good old Royal Rumble in the middle of his lounge (his parents were away), where I came through with flying colours due to my smallness. In other words, I could get up quicker than everyone else. However, they did finally knock me down and my rather large friend decided to jump on me from the top of the sofa. My stomach certainly didn’t like that very much.
Anyway, Saturday. I was hoping for a day of rest...’twas not to be. My younger brother forced me to go play Tennis with him (he thinks he can beat me) at our local club. It was 4-0 to me on games, when a dad of my friend came to play on the court next to us. I don’t see the friend too often because he goes to another school (special school). He bugs me a lot because I’m one of his only friends who lives in our area. Anyway, I was about to say “hi” when he came over to me with this really annoying, suspicious look on his face. For some reason, he seems to love having a go at his son’s friends, for anything. I’m sure of it. Although he did have a case here...
“Anthony!” He called.
“Hi!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Simon’s birthday party?”
Oh. My. Gawd. I’d totally forgotten. He’d told me about it a week ago, and I’d forgotten. Crap. I pretended I didn’t know anything about it, but it was quite obvious when I left two minutes later that I did. And I looked more guilty than Vanessa Feltz (sp?) at a wedding ceremony when she’s questioned about where all the cake went. Oh, and my brother was really peeved off that we had to go and whacked his racket on the court about three times. Punk. Anyway, I got there 40 minutes later but he said it was okay, and we played cricket for about three hours with his brother. Yes, three hours, and my legs were already stiff and painful. Finally got home and had to put brother and sister to bed while parents went off to a murder mystery party, and then went through a state of emotional trauma. The party was for one of their best friends’ birthday, and I was hoping that the daughter of the person (who I like quite a lot) would come and baby-sit with me and give me some company. She never turned up because she was actually acting at the party though, but I didn’t know this and thought she’d just rejected me. My parents confirmed this, by the way, so I know she wasn’t lying. Bah.
Anyway, I expect you’ve all lived through much tougher and more exciting days than these, but I thought I’d just tell you about my supposed ‘hard’ days. I just can’t wait for the future.
Thanks for reading, Ant.
Thursday, a day I had not been looking forward to. District Schools Athletics Championships. Now, there’s no doubting that I’m proud of getting into this 4 years in a row, and I like the fact I’m one of the fastest in my school. However, I always detest this event, and that’s mainly down to my stomach. And yes, my stomach went through a hellish day on Thursday.
Over the next paragraph or so, I plan to describe how my stomach felt.
I woke up, nervousness. I get nervous about using the phone, so you can imagine how I felt about this. Tried to eat, felt sick. Got on the coach with friends, felt normal. Got to Gloucester Park, felt nervous again. Got myself reading and found out when my event was, felt normal. Lining up for 200m race, EXTREME nervousness. The race, couldn’t even feel my legs for the last 50m. Came third, went straight to the toilet. Nausea. EXTREME nausea. Threw up everywhere, with rather a lot of boys standing outside the toilet. Damn, humiliation. Got back to ‘base’, hungry. Ate, felt sick again. Lining up for 4x100m relay, extreme nervousness and nausea. Ran race, came second, felt fine. Lining up for relay final, extreme nervousness. Came second again, felt better. Got home, felt hungry so ate. Ate a lot. Finally, went to bed.
I threw up because I have some sort of problem with a valve in my stomach which makes me feel sick whenever I sprint, especially after feeling nervous. Doesn’t mean I can exactly enjoy my favoured sport.
Anyway, finally got that hellacious day over and moved onto Friday. Much better, and my stomach was feeling okay until around 7pm, when I was going round to my mates’ place with a few other friends. At first I felt a little nervous, just about how it was going to go, but of course it was fantastic. We had a good old Royal Rumble in the middle of his lounge (his parents were away), where I came through with flying colours due to my smallness. In other words, I could get up quicker than everyone else. However, they did finally knock me down and my rather large friend decided to jump on me from the top of the sofa. My stomach certainly didn’t like that very much.
Anyway, Saturday. I was hoping for a day of rest...’twas not to be. My younger brother forced me to go play Tennis with him (he thinks he can beat me) at our local club. It was 4-0 to me on games, when a dad of my friend came to play on the court next to us. I don’t see the friend too often because he goes to another school (special school). He bugs me a lot because I’m one of his only friends who lives in our area. Anyway, I was about to say “hi” when he came over to me with this really annoying, suspicious look on his face. For some reason, he seems to love having a go at his son’s friends, for anything. I’m sure of it. Although he did have a case here...
“Anthony!” He called.
“Hi!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Simon’s birthday party?”
Oh. My. Gawd. I’d totally forgotten. He’d told me about it a week ago, and I’d forgotten. Crap. I pretended I didn’t know anything about it, but it was quite obvious when I left two minutes later that I did. And I looked more guilty than Vanessa Feltz (sp?) at a wedding ceremony when she’s questioned about where all the cake went. Oh, and my brother was really peeved off that we had to go and whacked his racket on the court about three times. Punk. Anyway, I got there 40 minutes later but he said it was okay, and we played cricket for about three hours with his brother. Yes, three hours, and my legs were already stiff and painful. Finally got home and had to put brother and sister to bed while parents went off to a murder mystery party, and then went through a state of emotional trauma. The party was for one of their best friends’ birthday, and I was hoping that the daughter of the person (who I like quite a lot) would come and baby-sit with me and give me some company. She never turned up because she was actually acting at the party though, but I didn’t know this and thought she’d just rejected me. My parents confirmed this, by the way, so I know she wasn’t lying. Bah.
Anyway, I expect you’ve all lived through much tougher and more exciting days than these, but I thought I’d just tell you about my supposed ‘hard’ days. I just can’t wait for the future.
Thanks for reading, Ant.
My legs and feet are aching though that's probaly due to the fitness program i'm undertaking for the Bristol football trials in 3 weeks.
My legs ache sometimes but not usually through exercise. Although my foot was killing me on saturday. I have a veruca which is in its dying stage, and it seems determined to cause me as much pain as possible before it finally gives up the ghost.
When I (finally) went to sleep on Wednesday night, I had no idea of what was to come over the next three days.
Thursday, a day I had not been looking forward to. District Schools Athletics Championships. Now, there’s no doubting that I’m proud of getting into this 4 years in a row, and I like the fact I’m one of the fastest in my school. However, I always detest this event, and that’s mainly down to my stomach. And yes, my stomach went through a hellish day on Thursday.
Over the next paragraph or so, I plan to describe how my stomach felt.
I woke up, nervousness. I get nervous about using the phone, so you can imagine how I felt about this. Tried to eat, felt sick. Got on the coach with friends, felt normal. Got to Gloucester Park, felt nervous again. Got myself reading and found out when my event was, felt normal. Lining up for 200m race, EXTREME nervousness. The race, couldn’t even feel my legs for the last 50m. Came third, went straight to the toilet. Nausea. EXTREME nausea. Threw up everywhere, with rather a lot of boys standing outside the toilet. Damn, humiliation. Got back to ‘base’, hungry. Ate, felt sick again. Lining up for 4x100m relay, extreme nervousness and nausea. Ran race, came second, felt fine. Lining up for relay final, extreme nervousness. Came second again, felt better. Got home, felt hungry so ate. Ate a lot. Finally, went to bed.
I threw up because I have some sort of problem with a valve in my stomach which makes me feel sick whenever I sprint, especially after feeling nervous. Doesn’t mean I can exactly enjoy my favoured sport.
Anyway, finally got that hellacious day over and moved onto Friday. Much better, and my stomach was feeling okay until around 7pm, when I was going round to my mates’ place with a few other friends. At first I felt a little nervous, just about how it was going to go, but of course it was fantastic. We had a good old Royal Rumble in the middle of his lounge (his parents were away), where I came through with flying colours due to my smallness. In other words, I could get up quicker than everyone else. However, they did finally knock me down and my rather large friend decided to jump on me from the top of the sofa. My stomach certainly didn’t like that very much.
Anyway, Saturday. I was hoping for a day of rest...’twas not to be. My younger brother forced me to go play Tennis with him (he thinks he can beat me) at our local club. It was 4-0 to me on games, when a dad of my friend came to play on the court next to us. I don’t see the friend too often because he goes to another school (special school). He bugs me a lot because I’m one of his only friends who lives in our area. Anyway, I was about to say “hi” when he came over to me with this really annoying, suspicious look on his face. For some reason, he seems to love having a go at his son’s friends, for anything. I’m sure of it. Although he did have a case here...
“Anthony!” He called.
“Hi!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Simon’s birthday party?”
Oh. My. Gawd. I’d totally forgotten. He’d told me about it a week ago, and I’d forgotten. Crap. I pretended I didn’t know anything about it, but it was quite obvious when I left two minutes later that I did. And I looked more guilty than Vanessa Feltz (sp?) at a wedding ceremony when she’s questioned about where all the cake went. Oh, and my brother was really peeved off that we had to go and whacked his racket on the court about three times. Punk. Anyway, I got there 40 minutes later but he said it was okay, and we played cricket for about three hours with his brother. Yes, three hours, and my legs were already stiff and painful. Finally got home and had to put brother and sister to bed while parents went off to a murder mystery party, and then went through a state of emotional trauma. The party was for one of their best friends’ birthday, and I was hoping that the daughter of the person (who I like quite a lot) would come and baby-sit with me and give me some company. She never turned up because she was actually acting at the party though, but I didn’t know this and thought she’d just rejected me. My parents confirmed this, by the way, so I know she wasn’t lying. Bah.
Anyway, I expect you’ve all lived through much tougher and more exciting days than these, but I thought I’d just tell you about my supposed ‘hard’ days. I just can’t wait for the future.
Thanks for reading, Ant.
Thursday, a day I had not been looking forward to. District Schools Athletics Championships. Now, there’s no doubting that I’m proud of getting into this 4 years in a row, and I like the fact I’m one of the fastest in my school. However, I always detest this event, and that’s mainly down to my stomach. And yes, my stomach went through a hellish day on Thursday.
Over the next paragraph or so, I plan to describe how my stomach felt.
I woke up, nervousness. I get nervous about using the phone, so you can imagine how I felt about this. Tried to eat, felt sick. Got on the coach with friends, felt normal. Got to Gloucester Park, felt nervous again. Got myself reading and found out when my event was, felt normal. Lining up for 200m race, EXTREME nervousness. The race, couldn’t even feel my legs for the last 50m. Came third, went straight to the toilet. Nausea. EXTREME nausea. Threw up everywhere, with rather a lot of boys standing outside the toilet. Damn, humiliation. Got back to ‘base’, hungry. Ate, felt sick again. Lining up for 4x100m relay, extreme nervousness and nausea. Ran race, came second, felt fine. Lining up for relay final, extreme nervousness. Came second again, felt better. Got home, felt hungry so ate. Ate a lot. Finally, went to bed.
I threw up because I have some sort of problem with a valve in my stomach which makes me feel sick whenever I sprint, especially after feeling nervous. Doesn’t mean I can exactly enjoy my favoured sport.
Anyway, finally got that hellacious day over and moved onto Friday. Much better, and my stomach was feeling okay until around 7pm, when I was going round to my mates’ place with a few other friends. At first I felt a little nervous, just about how it was going to go, but of course it was fantastic. We had a good old Royal Rumble in the middle of his lounge (his parents were away), where I came through with flying colours due to my smallness. In other words, I could get up quicker than everyone else. However, they did finally knock me down and my rather large friend decided to jump on me from the top of the sofa. My stomach certainly didn’t like that very much.
Anyway, Saturday. I was hoping for a day of rest...’twas not to be. My younger brother forced me to go play Tennis with him (he thinks he can beat me) at our local club. It was 4-0 to me on games, when a dad of my friend came to play on the court next to us. I don’t see the friend too often because he goes to another school (special school). He bugs me a lot because I’m one of his only friends who lives in our area. Anyway, I was about to say “hi” when he came over to me with this really annoying, suspicious look on his face. For some reason, he seems to love having a go at his son’s friends, for anything. I’m sure of it. Although he did have a case here...
“Anthony!” He called.
“Hi!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Simon’s birthday party?”
Oh. My. Gawd. I’d totally forgotten. He’d told me about it a week ago, and I’d forgotten. Crap. I pretended I didn’t know anything about it, but it was quite obvious when I left two minutes later that I did. And I looked more guilty than Vanessa Feltz (sp?) at a wedding ceremony when she’s questioned about where all the cake went. Oh, and my brother was really peeved off that we had to go and whacked his racket on the court about three times. Punk. Anyway, I got there 40 minutes later but he said it was okay, and we played cricket for about three hours with his brother. Yes, three hours, and my legs were already stiff and painful. Finally got home and had to put brother and sister to bed while parents went off to a murder mystery party, and then went through a state of emotional trauma. The party was for one of their best friends’ birthday, and I was hoping that the daughter of the person (who I like quite a lot) would come and baby-sit with me and give me some company. She never turned up because she was actually acting at the party though, but I didn’t know this and thought she’d just rejected me. My parents confirmed this, by the way, so I know she wasn’t lying. Bah.
Anyway, I expect you’ve all lived through much tougher and more exciting days than these, but I thought I’d just tell you about my supposed ‘hard’ days. I just can’t wait for the future.
Thanks for reading, Ant.