OK, another confession. That picture of the koala further up the page… I didn’t really snap that along the Kennet & Avon Canal. It was taken on a run though, but not one of mine. Step forward, Graham H-M, otherwise known as Midlife-Crisis-Man. Graham is a suspiciously lucid Australian who has gone a bit quiet recently. Maybe a truckload of Boags went off the road behind his house. It would take some digging to conceal it properly. He’s given me a lot of good things to think about (like beer recommendations) over the last couple of months, not least of which was to lead me, quite unintentionally, to the discovery of the true secret of the meaning of life. But that’s another story for another day.
No, I don’t see too many koalas round here, though I don’t suppose it was a remarkable sight to him. There again, deer are a commonplace around here, yet I recall an American lady squealing with excitement about seeing deer in Richmond Park. It’s old hat to swoon about the wonders of the internet, but… nah.
I had a complimentary email the other day from a BBC journalist, Alison Harper, who’s been keeping a radio diary of her London Marathon training. Modesty prevents me from relaying her message, but if you have a few minutes, you can listen here to her marathon training broadcasts.
Last night’s running club intervals have left my thighs throbbing with pain. Quite a pleasant sensation as pain-throbs go, but it does give me some anxiety about this 10 mile race tomorrow. Enter in haste, repent at leisure. Ask Boris Becker. To add to my worries, I raced up the stairs last night in the dark, and stubbed my toe on something called a vaccuum cleaner that my wife was keen to introduce me to. And to cap it all, I’ve been hungry all day, and therefore eating all day. I’m sitting here with a horribly bruised toe, aching muscles, and a belly the size of a space hopper.
I’ll definitely turn up tomorrow morning, though I suspect my chances of completing 10 miles are about the same as spotting a kangaroo on the village high street.
