And I Would Run One Hundred Miles

[Sweder]

He leered at my tanned shoulders
As I passed the fat old perv
I doubt I'll run up there again
He's got some bloody nerve

There was a time I might have kicked on and chatted to her, invited her to enter the Moyleman, asked after her running pedigree. Given the distance from home, and indeed from any reliable roadway by which paramedics might have reached me, I didn't try. That, and the fact that my lungs were already in my throat at half her pace.

The joke's over. I need to step it up and lose some timber or pack this lark in for good. I don't do well at floundering.