Well? How did I get here?
What IS this place?
I feel like a proper interloper. No, not even that. 'lope' cannot be used here, at least, not by me.
No running this year so far. Not a step. Asthma has been diagnosed and various drugs dispensed.
It's upsetting, but it's not terminal. My waistline is expanding, but so are my hopes for improvement.
So, why the long face?
Well, I was born with it, for one thing.
Also, I will not be in Lewes for the 2018 edition of the Moyleman.
Yes, the true cause of my glum disposition is not my own physical decrepitude, rather the spite of circumstance that has, in the past few days, seen a client invoke contractual obligation. I shall be in Shanghai next week. There's no-one else suitable (key word; there are many others, but they don't qualify) and available. I have to go. I've applied for my visa (I'm told I'll get it, too) and I've booked my ticket.
Don't. I've tried everything. In a delicious twist of irony, my asthma nurse tells me Shanghai, or any major Chinese city, is the worst place for a recently re-diagnosed asthmatic to go. Let alone a cold, damp, dusty exhibit hall. She leaves me breathless, you know. And she always laughs, every single time I say that.
C'est la vie. I'm trying not to think of everything I'll miss next weekend. The smiles, the tears, the hugs, the handshakes, the beer, the pizza, the beer ... If I sit down and think about it properly I'll not stop sobbing. It has - and will - force me to re evaluate life, or mine at least. At my age I don't need work to intervene to this degree. There will need to be changes made, and I'm of a mind to make them.
But, enough already.
This will be the most spectacular, star-studded Moyleman in the series so far.
We have special guests, a shiny new Race Director, an appearance by the Grande Fromage himself plus the Spanish Armada.
There's a monstrous post-race dinner in the offing - at the Pelham Arms, no less! It will be incredible. And it will go incredibly well, for my young apprentice has set about things with such gusto and aplomb there will be no unturned stones left, on or off the course. Duncan is one of the most considered, competent, confident people I've ever met. He has a small army of dedicated people around him. He'll miss my jokes - come on, who wouldn't? - and there will be more Abyss to drink. That's it. Like Chris, I will be there with them all, in spirit.
This is the best weekend of the year. I include Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, Lewes winning the league (they will, the men at least, in May), all of that. It is a rambunctious celebration of life, a salute to absent friends, a coming together of like-minded fools to pay homage to our wondrous Lewes hills. I'm sad, but I'm immensely proud. I cannot wait to watch it all unfold on WhatsUp, Tweeter, the Fleecebook and Snapnumpty.
Next year, we will endeavour to rig up at least one cyclist and a runner with GoPro feeds to run an edited Facebook Live! service.
Not for me, you understand, for I will be there. But because, quite possibly, we can.
On, on.
