Well I've finally done it.
Achieved my objective.
Arrived at my destination.
No, I didn't manage to abstain from playing with myself for three days (though I did have a 48 hour gap this week, due to work, which I was rather proud of). However, my accomplishment is far more personal and more deserved to me, than the control of my sex drive: I have run my first race.
That's right, today I ran
The London 10k (6.2 miles). Although I didn't beat the world record holder's 28 minute accomplishment, I did get to the finish line alongside the first 3,000 runners, (in front of 17,000 others), so am feeling pretty chuffed with myself.
Others may have run faster than me, but along the way I have beaten injury, personal setbacks, and training limitations due to work, so the fact I managed to run the entire distance today is something I am rather proud of, and I am going to continue with my running regime even though the race is now behind me.
Although today has been a great day, coming home jubilant after the race to an empty flat kind of got me down. What I would give to have a partner right now, to run me a bath, rub my tired legs and eat my aching pussy; it sucks being single sometimes.
Even though a cute guy chatted me up whilst I stretched after the race.
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