For once, the school run was almost pleasant. Idyllic, but for the low level fug around Wycombe (a mixture of carbon monoxide and volcanic ash I suspect). Jensen skipped along side me and seemed enthused by the prospect of running. And even being beaten by a bleary-eyed four year old (with his shoes on the wrong feet) could not dent my joy at being on time and avoiding THE STARE.
Running the rest of the course was not quite so much fun. I managed to jog the down hill bits and came to a slow walk when I got to the bottom of Priory Road. I think the endorphins kicked in briefly. Or maybe I was just too tired to care that I was virtually outside Morrisons (coffee and chocolate mecca) with nothing in my pocket except for another pair of wet track suit bottoms (Jensen’s, not mine, I hasten to add). From then on it was uphill all the way, and very slowly. But I made it.