A bloody STONKER of a hangover to kick start Saturday morning.
OUCH.
That bloody hurt.
The best way to run it off was with a Park Run. But with the Lambeth Country Show swallowing up Brockwell Park for the weekend, my usual route of choice was out of action.
Having failed badly last weekend, I tried once again to locate the Dulwich Park Run. This just isn’t my patch of South London.
I made it to Burbage Road by 8:55am, and then followed the other late comers legging it to the start line.
Local legend has it that the Dulwich Park Run is the stuff of PB’s. I’ll have a bit of that with my hangover, I thought.
Three laps, and a flat course. What could go wrong?
I clocked 6’10” for the first circuit, leading to ambitions of a PB, and probably SMASHING through the 21 minute timing for the first time.
What went wrong?
A final time of 21’52” was disappointing, but half-decent.
Back to the beauty of Brockwell next Saturday, Comrades.
I cycled back towards Brockwell, stopping off briefly at Le Velo. The last time I was here was with the SE21 sixth form students. The old club house is now reduced to rubble. Le Velo remains a marvel of South London.
I watched a couple of youth races, and tried to convince myself that my track legs still had it in them.
Yeah, right.
Next stop was the lovely lido.
We’re back to the BEAUTIFUL Brockwell blue, with the two dodgy pumps now back doing the business. Fourteen lengths later and it was hard to remove me.
I was reminded how a slight re-writing of my will earlier in the week included a specific clause all about the lido.
Uplifting stuff, Jase.
I had some Saturday morning chores back at base in Sunny Stockwell, and then cycled back once again, Brockwell bound.
The remainder of Saturday was all about the ACE Lambeth Country Show.
Red Maz of Bal’ham was my Country Show companion for the afternoon. We walked around as much as we could, before thinking f-it, let’s hit the Chucklehead.
This was clearly the busiest Country Show yet. It’s a tough act to rise above all that has gone before each year, but somehow Event Lambeth manage to pull it off.
Good effort, folks.
Red Maz and I tried our best with some experimental jazz on the main stage. But we ended up retiring to the sanctuary of the bowling green to find a moment of clarity with the Chucklehead.
Blame EVERYTHING on Chucklehead, Comrades.
Red Maz and I departed before we fell over. I bashed out a brief Buzz piece back at base.
And then I had to cycle off to LS, and back to *over there.*
Oh dear.
Saturday evening was spent on mad cat catch up time.