Mucsle Spazams In Head

On the Charles Bridge was pulled, tugged

the machine and I walk along the river to the hotel. We went down to the mat on his shoulder in shorts and shirts, with our medals around their necks. We just finished running the half marathon in Prague. We have left the bustle of the race and have been absorbed by the hordes of tourists and natives. We discuss the race. The intentions were few, but the heat (not a good idea to put a race to noon), the paving, water slide and the beating of the two previous days of tourism have set us on our site. And despite have not come to dispute it because I will soon I have trouble, we took a marathon leg pain. Before us, tilted somewhat to my right, I watch a beauty in his twenties with Czech traits we look, sets his camera and a photo shoot. Surprised, he embraced the machine and posed for the girl. It smiles and we shoot each other. We said goodbye. She moves on. We ours. Then we said that this gesture clearly demonstrates that all native twenties (Czech girls, come on) not to admire the riders but trembling with excitement when they see two sub three endowed Valencia donosura and natural elegance as much as is ours. And without the slightest pain of turkey legs and proud as we arrived at our hotel. Ten

we went to Prague. Four runners are common. One is running sporadically. Two, including spouses, are much more sporadic runners and the other three consorts, including Ana, consider the miles go by marriage contained in the matrimonial regime and already we do. The excuse of the trip was the half marathon but it was only the first excuse they stay within the group formed an independent faction powerful little run and others: the intellectual faction. This faction got under his belt two operas, two. Non-intellectual faction or, call by our real name, faction jug, while Pilkington made him pass the thousand and one a Butterfly and Don Giovanni as bustled up to the scorer, took the opportunity to stroll around, drink beer and intellectuals suffer because we were afraid that the mezzo or baritone escape him an eighth note or a sixteenth note and give them the whole head. In one of our walks through the Old City we were approached by a man in his forties with Slavic features and asked in a Castilian better than ours:
- Madrid or Barcelona?
"No, we Valencia.
- Valencia? I lived two years in Benimaclet. Then also I was in Girona and Murcia. Eight years have happened in Spain working in construction as an electrician. But I had to go back. No slaughter.
"And here, how about that?
"Well, now I work in a club puti.
"A job like any other.
"Do not Believe, puti work in Europe's biggest club. But I'm not happy.
-large companies, you know.
"I have hired only because I speak English. And what I want to go back to Spain. How are things there? "Well
still fairly regular.
"I'll keep waiting. Good morning that you spend here. And do not change money with anyone on the street. I timarán.
"Thank you. Let's see if we soon.
"Thank you. Bye. Aircraft

return. We returned as we went, via Zurich (see I am saying that track cosmopolitan Zurich. I'll never stop being a redneck). A point to get to Valencia a man in his fifties with gray hair is fully up and heads down the hall to the bathroom. Is very white. Encountered. It rests on the back of a seat. "I do not feel well," he murmurs. And dropped. With the cries stands another man of his age quite dark.

"It's my friend. He's my friend. Let me. Tumbadle on the floor. Hold up your feet. Put him aside, that does not swallow his tongue. Calm down, I am veterinarian. I lived through it many times. Leave me to myself.

And the fact is that on the flight were traveling a lot of physicians returning from a conference (conference and non conference sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, for sure). But he looked so make sure you let him. And we stayed very calm. A pity we did not have any anything to hand surgery to have taken advantage we had a vet so close. A real shame.