Working On A Building.

Ok, ok, I'm not going to become a runner. Here's why. Last weekend I ran this event that was pretty well supported by a number of awesome companies. One of these companies donated a mag trainer, with the explicit orders that it go to the person who came last in A Grade. I worded up Dylan McDylan about this. He's an ok B-Grader at best, but with this prize up for grabs, he entered A-Grade, and consequently took home the goodies. Later in the week I received these messages:

DMcD: Are these trainers as effective if I sit up playing with my phone?
BJB: I usually do just that. Or read, or watch a movie. I'll send you some efforts if you like.
DMcD: You are sending me effort? Thanks! I need more of that. I'll send you some of my sweat in return. Cos there is so fucking much of it.
BJB: Yeah, that happens. Drink lots!
DMcD: I usually do?
BJB: Water, Dylan.

Five minutes later I received another message.

DMcD: I just threw up my pizza.

I remember feeling like that. I want to feel like that again.