Mary Celeste

L persuades me to put my running sessions with the Lad on hold until after the Great North Hobble is done and dusted. It’s probably wise but I feel sorry for him, he'll get unfit and out of shape. He might even end up like me.

Our race numbers arrive and L sounds pleased or was that an ironic Woohoo? Meanwhile her sister seems set to pull out through injury. Which is tempting but I shall grim and bear it because it’s the 40th even if I have to crawl it. It’ll be nice to do the one off course and particularly great not having to do the bus trip back from South Shields. I’m also looking forward to the weekend away.

Then probably not returning until the 50th when I could well be a wheelchair entry and maybe they’ll allow me an assistance dog.

L takes the plunge and books a personal training session. She’s handpicked her chap, apparently not because of his six-pack but because he looks old. I’m sure he’ll be delighted at that. Anyhow, when she meets him it turns out that he doesn't look that old in the flesh. 

She’s told him that she wants to become a weightlifter. Which I hope he hasn’t taken too literally because she’s only up to about 10kg at the moment.

In an effort not to be outdone, I return to the gym on Tuesday where they've forgotten they’re supposed to be giving me a card to get in. Then they don’t give me a card, they give me a wrist band instead which I can’t work.

At least I get a session this time although it’s not terribly productive as I spend most of the time trying to sort the machines out. What I do get done makes my knees ache. I’m not sure if that was the intention.

I feel I’ve earnt my recover pints later in the Brunswick and the Alexandra with my old mate from school.

I bike on Wednesday and Thursday as well as going to the gym on both days where suddenly on Thursday all the vaccination people have gone. On Wednesday they were there and then suddenly the next day it’s the Mary Celeste. They’ve all cleared their desks, then come back and taken their desks as well.

L asks how it was? It was the gym. Isn’t it always the same? 

After three gym sessions in a row and two bike rides in a row my knees are gone by the time it comes to tennis on Thursday. So I don’t offer up much of a game.

The Lad gets a walk with my opponent’s partner and both dogs celebrate what is National Dog Day by sharing a pack of Quavers in the pub.

This is the dog that absconds over the gate again this week and then disappears, presumably upstairs to bed. Looking back at the video, it looks like the postman upset him again. He nearly landed on his head but I’m not sure that will discourage him from doing it again.

My knees haven’t recovered by Friday so I skip the Friday run and L does it solo. Then I also skip Parkrun to exercise the dogs while L and Daughter run the new Forest Rec course which seems a distinct improvement on the old one. I shall do it with the Lad sometime post Great North Hobble.

I do run over 10k with them both on Sunday with Daughter joining our route from around halfway at Forest Rec. We hit Stapleford in the evening.

(Sunday 29^th August)