A new Park Run route for Saturday morning.
OH HAI Rushcliffe.
You can always tell in the build up to the 9am Park Run start as to what type of race it will be.
It’s a race that’s not a race, but some pretty SERIOUS race faces were on display in the Fair City at 9am on Saturday morning.
Oh dear.
I did the newbie head nodding thing as the Race Director went politely through the pre-race briefing.
He asked me where my home Park Run location was.
I spluttered out something about Brockwell cum Colchester.
We were told that this was a fast course. The still weather conditions were perfect for a PB. My heavy chest wasn’t having any of it.
I started close to the front of the pack, and was passed pretty much for the remainder of the race. I felt good, but not optimistic of a fast time.
The official race time of 21’40” was bloody decent for me - just 8 seconds off a Sunny Colch PB.
A brief stop off for some errands in the village on the way home and lookey lookey here: it’s only Jason Lee - he of the Forest pineapple haircut - doing a bit of a turn in the local village boozer.
*possibly*
I did some gardening for my Dad back at base.
He had two [no idea what] plants that needed a new home.
I dug for victory and did the business.
“They look happy there”
…declared the Old Man.
And who was I to argue?
Saturday luncheon was something a little different: a gymnastics display involving my nephew.
It was impressive stuff. It is remarkable how many vaults can be squeezed into a TWO HOUR show.
Late Saturday afternoon was spent watching darts.
I’m pissed off that Sky has rebranded Sky Sports 3 the Darts Channel once again this year. Back *over there* and Anna and I only have Sky Sports 1 and 2.
Arse.
The shout went out early evening of:
“To Trent Bridge!”
I got a little lost walking around the mean streets of NG2, but eventually managed to find the boozer for the meet up with some very dear old Nottingham friends.
I’ve not had my BOOZE head on in recent weeks.
I made up for lost liquid time on Saturday evening.
Chin chin.