I’m resting my legs on bus today and hoping I can walk off the twisted ankle. It’s seems ok for walking but for running, who knows. Suppose it’s only 13 miles on Sunday...
The race now starts at 2.15 in the afternoon, apparently to make sure that no one gets run over by the traffic heading to an event at Buxton Raceway that is being held on the same day. This actually gives us time to do one of the many 10k’s that are on that morning as a warm up... perhaps not.
The problem with 2.15 is of course that it could be very hot at that time of day. Thankfully the weather forecast is saying cloudy, mild, a 90% chance of precipitation and a temperature of 16°C which would be almost perfect.
In the evening I walk up to L who’s at the gym and then we head down to the Wollaton Pub to sit in the sun, drink and eat. The peace is momentarily shattered when Daughter, having forgotten her door key, turns up to borrow one of ours.
I’m probably not supposed to mention the further shattering of peace, on a far more impressive (for want of a better word) scale (by the way, belated apologies to our neighbours), several hours later by the same person, after, shall we say, a few too many. Best not mention it.