C3H6O3

I ran a 1.2. kilometer leg in the Holmenkollen relay race yesterday. It's one of those abrasive distances which are not-quite a sprint (which is over fast) and not quite long distance (in which you can pace yourself) but in an annoying place in between where you feel lactic acid after a couple of hundred meters, but have to keep your pace up despite the suffering, and still have to save wind to sprint uphill at the end. I've always associated being good at sports with having that I-could-conceivably-die-from-this feeling at the end. Who do we do this to ourselves, people?

Anyway, Team Klassekampen did not-bad-but-not-good, and anyway we beat the Fremskrittspartiet ("Progress" Party) team.

So anyway, today the muscles in my legs are so sore I have trouble walking. The funny thing is, I woke up this morning with Juliette Lewis' version of PJ Harvey's "I Can Hardly Wait" on my brain... But the lyrics were

I can hardly walk
I can hardly wa-alk
I ran so long
I ran so song
It's such a waste

Kudos to my unconscious for writing songs while asleep.