Whoops - new month slipped in whilst I wasn't looking . . .
Another barren week drifts by . . . pressure of work and an unexpected soreness in the legs after the Downland 10 has seen me eschew the call of the hills for the office.
Heading for Dublin on the morrow. Unlike me and my band of fellow stick-swinging travellers running chances are slim. The runners will be packed, but I fear they will remain so.
Here's to better things next week
Oh my.
Tales from the tour, Ireland 2007 appear on the main site. My liver quivers at the memory . . .
World Cup Final day!
I was bouncing around the house this morning, singing 'Swing Low' and generally upsetting the household. Nothing for it but to head for the hills, sans music or radio, to burn off the nervous energy whilst dreaming of all the possible scenarios for tonight's clash.
The mighty, flighty Springbok takes on the weight of the Old English Lion.
It's a mangy old lion, raked with scars, great tufts of it's golden mane missing, stained fur clogged with mud. But a wounded animal can be dangerous, and that much-maligned beast may yet rear up and sink its yellow fangs into South African flesh. As in the Traansvaal so in the Parc des Princes; complacency will get you killed.
It might be a game too far for those brave English boys, and if it turns out that way c'est la vie. It won't stop SP, Captain Tom and I gathering in my living room like some pack from hell to whoop and holler and drive them on to glory . . . or glorous failure.
Reading the sports pages this week I see I'm not alone in caring little if at all about events in Russia on Wednesday afternoon. The England football team pales horribly against their oval-ball counterparts. Not just because the rugger boys have a chance to actually win something, but because they've got there through sheer belief and will to win, something that left Second Choice Steve's outfit long before the Quiffed One took up the tracksuit.
A fabulous run this morning in ice-cold, crystal clear conditions. I bustled across the hills in my run-shuffle style, drinking in the wonderful views across the plains, enjoying the frisson between warm sweat and chilled air. Home in 43:50 (the Garmin's back in business), a good last outing before the red-eye tomorrow from Heathrow to the sweeping desert heat of Dubai.
Once again I'll be taking my runners, but . . .
Tried to post a small piece on the new RC site from my room in Dubai.
When I went to log in I got the following polite message.
What a subversive bunch we must be . . .
Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote:Infamy at last!
Ah . . .
Carry On Ceasar:
'Infamy, infamy . . . they've all got it infamy!'
Not much running going on around this neck of the woods.
It's all burning desert sands and blow me if there isn't a place called 'The Irish Village' just down the road. I'll have to reserve a bigger seat for the return journey . . .
Funny that October should rhyme with 'sober' - an inappropriate epiphet for the past four weeks if ever there was one.
Still, ended with a run which is no bad thing.
More here.
Sweder Wrote:Tried to post a small piece on the new RC site from my room in Dubai.
When I went to log in I got the following polite message.
What a subversive bunch we must be . . .
But,
Well,
Finally get out the reason because I was not here anymore...
Morality...
what kind of stuff was written here during the last time?
:RFLMAO: