Two days ago, my very wonderful friend Rose and I ran the Great Manchester Run. That’s 10 kilometres around Manchester City Centre, down to Old Trafford and around Salford Keys. I did this with no training and it was actually rather wonderful. It was a really rather wonderful event, with 28,000 people taking part.
We took it very easy and stopped for a toilet break, which involved probably about five minutes’ queuing. Even with stoppage time, we finished in one hour 16 minutes dead on, which I think is pretty good considering the lack of preparation. I am thus now convinced that athleticism is the way forward.
The only thing that slightly troubles me about this is that it seems to me that men tend to discover running as they approach middle age. Often, they discover it about the time that they buy their first sports car. I guess this means that I’m properly middle aged. Crap. Maybe I’ll stick to television and chocolate.
3 comments:
Way, you are the next Seb Coe. Or should that be Daly Thompson? Congratulations. You have mentioned being middle aged twice now in the space of a week or so. Are you having a crisis? Please don't, because you're younger than me.
I don't think it's a crisis as such yet but it's the first serious rumblings of one.
Watch the knees old fella!
Not saying anymore other than... a bike would be better!
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