An Apology Of Sorts

I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll wear my spooky t-shirt from yesterday’s race. L also declines to wear hers today in the gym and opts for her classier Great South one instead.

Meanwhile the Great South market research people have emailed her an apology of sorts for them doubting her.

“We are sure you all have experienced times in your life in which somebody told you that you were not good enough to accomplish certain things. For some of us, not being believed in is extremely demotivating; for others, it is actually an additional source of motivation.”

Apparently people were randomly told that either they were ‘crap’ or they were offered a gift card of either £10, £20 or £40 for meeting their goal. Now I’ve got the hump as well because clearly they thought they could bribe me into running faster by only offering me £10. I feel so cheap. I should have held out for the £40.

Despite that, L’s still enthused. So I bang in entries for the Stamford 30k, as a training run for Brighton, which opens today and always fills quickly. Needs must, as they say.

Also, totally unprovoked, L enters the Watford Half Marathon which her sister is already signed up for. Their website says ‘Hurry up! Only 1795 places available’ As there were 1880 finishers the last time it was ran in 2018 (2019 was cancelled because of the weather), that’s only 85 places taken... So I shall delay my entry for a while until they’ve finished mucking around with the football fixtures and hence I know whether I'm free that day or not. Although not entering things does have a habit of coming back to bite me.

Then she mentions ‘Britney Runs a Marathon’ which is on at the cinema this weekend. It's not on my 'must see' list so I might let Daughter take her to that one.

MD is at the Vets later for his annual check-up and booster. This petrifies the life out of him. We’ve also got the Lad there so that they can both be Kennel Cough vaccinated as well. It takes two of us and a muzzle to hold MD still enough to get the vaccine up his nose. The Lad meanwhile can’t wait to have his nasal passages squirted and seems gutted when it’s all over so quickly.

Then it’s home to bang in another race entry as entries for the Ashby 20 go live at 7pm. When they open, it was like Glastonbury all over again and entries sell out in 20 minutes flat. However, unlike Glastonbury, we’re in.

(Monday 28^th October)