Never Felt The Urge

A friend of L's from Australia tells her that she's waved at her on Facebook Messenger but L doesn't have a clue what she's talking about. So she asks me. As if I’d know. I do know that such ‘waving hands’ do exist but I don’t know how to wave either and I’ve never felt the urge.

We’ve lost the Lad, at least he’s no longer visible on Dog TV. I pan the camera around and still can’t find him. Then suddenly we see a little face the other side of the dog gate. That is the newer, taller, Berlin Wall-esk dog gate.

After months of searching I finally find a reasonably priced hotel in Tokyo for the Olympic Games, so I book it. Reasonably priced meaning something only double its usual price rather than triple, quadruple or any other multiplying factor they think they can get away with.

I bike to work on Wednesday but there’s still no squash which now seems to be on indefinite hiatus. My opponent wanted two weeks off for his staycation but that’s now finished. So I’m assuming either he doesn’t think his back is up to it or he’s put on about three stone during his 'holiday'.

  

L has been using a technique called ‘Jeffing’ in her races, this is basically a mix of intervals of running and walking devised by Olympian Jeff Galloway. There’s also ‘Darrening’ but I’m not going into that and anyway the origins of it seem to be shrouded in secrecy.

Now apparently we have Mafetone Magic, which I thought were a band I saw playing as a support act sometime back in the 1990s. Apparently not. Someone has posted on Facebook that they are using the technique for this weekend’s Leicester Marathon. 

Well... they were because the Leicester Marathon has now been cancelled. Apparently Watermead Park is waterlogged. I do recall wading through water in Watermead in previous years and practically swimming through one of the subways in the city centre, so it must be really bad this year.

On Thursday I rush hope to jump on the internet in an attempt to get Glastonbury coach tickets and spend the evening looking at the holding screen. Well, there’s always Sunday.

On Friday Yourbus go bust. I can’t say I’m surprised as I never did manage to work out what their business strategy was.

(Friday 4^th October)

Conclusive Proof?

L keeps getting messaged by my new masseur asking how I am. I tell her to tell him I crawled up the stairs at work, which is not far from the truth actually. The calf is sore but that is to be expected. I couldn’t have ran Leeds had it been today but I'll see how it is in next few days.

L pencils in a Saturday night out and a lie-in in the diary, just in case I don’t make it. She’s such an optimist.

The King of the Mountains results are in and David Millar (3:57) beat me (5:35) by a good minute and half up Harwood Dale (average gradient 7.4%). Not bad. They send fetching photos of us all alongside one of Big Dave. L is not terribly impressed with hers, at least not fashion wise but I point out her good road position, straight wheels and the fact that you can see everyone else walking behind her.

Son texts from Tokyo or so he says. Do we take this as conclusive proof he got on the plane this time?

I have a valid pass out tonight and I meet up the old school brigade (well two of them) in the Brunswick for, yay, something dark in Lister’s Limehouse Porter and then afterwards in the Babbington for Small World’s Thunderbridge Stout. L and the boys meet me off the bus afterwards.

(Tuesday 3^rd May)