Govember

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

6:35 a.m. race day. Still bleary-eyed from a reasonably good night's sleep. Perfect running weather - crystal clear blue skies, cool but calm, just beautiful.

Stephen has already left for his earlier walk start, and Ash and I are filling in the minutes before our inevitable departure.

Only one thing going through my mind, really. Mulling over the weirdest dream I had, in which I was a cub photographer on a newspaper, and everyday I was sent to photograph a plane landing at a local airfield. The place was full of similar photographers, all far more experienced than me and all doing the same thing - trying desperately to come up with a new angle on the landing of a plane that would interest our editors, who each day demanded at least a dozen good photographs for their consideration. Somehow this was meant to be a metaphor for today's race.

But what can it mean?