Woman apologises for all the bad shit she did on running high

A WOMAN is mortified after being told of all the wild shit she pulled while tripping on a post-cardio rush of endorphins.

Joanna Kramer, aged 32, thought she could handle a light jog around the park, before falling into a 5K sprint and horrifying a whole Starbucks with her crazed, elated behaviour afterwards.

Kramer said: “I woke after some carbs and a power nap, and realised just how off my f**king head I’d been.

“I got flashbacks of rocking up with a spring in my step, a smile on my face and a genuine zest for life, necking bottle after bottle of water. I apologised to the whole group chat.

“Then, privately, I tried to make amends with my boyfriend. I was chatting all kinds of nonsense about my mood being lifted, and stretching right in front of him. At one point, I tried to get him to do lunges. I was seriously gone.

“And the poor girls who looked after me in the toilets. Apparently I was so impressed with the health of my bowel movements I thought everyone should see.

“Turns out while I was peaking I paid £45 to enter a half-marathon, and there’s no refunds. These race pushers take advantage of people who don’t know when to stop.

“My sister had to pay for my taxi home. I could walk fine, but God know what would have happened if my brain had one more drop of exercise-induced dopamine.”

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Let me give you the bedsit tour! By a millennial

By Charlotte Phelps, aged 32, of Penge

COME in! Obviously I’d prefer to give you ‘the house tour’, but that’s not an option, so let’s pretend my cramped studio flat above a kebab shop is a liveable dwelling. 

Do you mind taking your shoes off? I hate to ask but it saves traipsing dirt through the hallway-cum-kitchen-cum-living-room-cum-bedroom-cum-bathroom. Thanks.

First, the kitchen! You wouldn’t normally have a shower cubicle next to the cooker, but it’s really handy if you work up an appetite washing your hair. You can make an omelette without all the hassle of lowering your feet one by one down 12 or 13 fiddly stairs.

If you turn your head slightly left you’re in the lounge. Technically it’s just one chair, so when friends come over we sit awkwardly in a row on the bed. The chair is a great place to slob out after work and watch the 12” TV weirdly positioned on a chipboard shelf above the sink.

Anyway, let’s walk half a metre over here and, ta-dah! The bedroom. This is where the magic happens. It’s not seen much action, because the communal toilet for the whole floor is the other side of this chipboard wall, and it puts you off.

I know what you’re thinking – how much to live in a prime Zone 4 location like this? It’s £1,200 a month, so with my other outgoings I have no money of my own like a slave, but it’s great to feel part of the zeitgeist.

Let’s move on to the dining room. You didn’t think there was one, did you? But if I flip up these little wings on this tiny table, hey presto! Room for four guests.

Anyway, this is my favourite feature, the window. I like to stare out at the normal houses and dream of not living in this f**king miniature hellhole that would give Stuart Little claustrophobia. Did I say hellhole? I meant studio.

I expect you’d like a cup of tea? Sit down. If you feel the walls closing in, just take deep breaths and ride out the panic. Milk, no sugar, right?