It’s Doggo’s birthday today, his 11th, the old git. L promises not to shout at him as he takes even longer than usual over his morning ritual of sniffs and wees. She buys some treats that resemble cheese strings and spring rolls for a birthday treat.
I toast his health as we go for a rare Friday lunch at the pub. The prospect of which had already put paid to an after work run, even before L offers a post work drink as well because she’s in Derby, which puts paid to any cycling as well.
But I’ve earned this. Haven’t I? I've trained quite hard this week. Although there’s a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that is not what Dave Brailsford says to Chris Hoy after a week of two bike rides and a run.
Talking of which. No golds today, only silvers... perhaps Team GB have been down the pub as well.
(Friday 10th August)
Strange times, that could become even stranger
11 hours ago