A swim or a run for Sunday morning?
The legs were itching for a run - a BIG ‘UN as well.
The last time I attempted the South Notts 13 miler though I was out of action for the following three months.
I played it safe and put in the old 8km route. This dates back to 1988. I use to leg it around in sub 45 minutes.
I’ve gained around 6 minutes over the past 28 years.
The main difference from a quarter of a decade ago is the number of Sunday morning cyclists rolling out for a spin.
If you went out in the lycra back in the day then you would have been labelled as a weirdo.
Any thoughts of bicycle envy soon disappeared when I saw one poor fella struggling by the roadside with a puncture at 8am.
Chapeau, fella!
I showered, and then dressed in the spare room at my parent’s new home.
“Close the blinds - the lady in the adjacent bungalow is a randy old bird. She’ll be looking at you as you rub yourself down”
…explained my Dad.
This one’s for you, luv.
Sunday morning was then lost in tech frustration.
How difficult can it be to transfer 40 odd mp3’s from a USB to your Mum’s 2006 iPod Mini?
VERY.
Especially so when the machine that is linked to the iTunes library no longer exists.
Football followed. Three matches, back to back. Lazy Sunday.
I had a brief work shift, and then settled down for SPOTY.
I miss the silly games where some oaf of a rugby player kicks an egg shaped ball at Peter Shilton in front of a wonky old BBC set.