Two weeks from now I am going to drink a lot of red wine. I miss a good quaff. With autumn drawing in I am quite keen to tackle some merlot guilt free.
Logistics planning is taking over from training now. A conference and busy time at work are making for not the most relaxed lead up to the race but I'm sure I can switch off from that when I need to.
I was thinking about the Dartmoor Vale marathon that I did ill prepared, injured and poorly paced last year. It was set up by the rotary club (or similar) down there and was marshaled by them and some locals. The race was a double lap of a rather large hill and on the winding, slightly bumpy and off-road decent there was positioned a marshal on his deck chair in a garden, yelling things at us as we passed. I remember the pain of the second lap leaving me temporarily as I realised the very strong likelihood that he actually always sat there in that chair, waving his stick at passers by and yelling but today they had put a hi-vis jacket on him. My yell of 'am I nearly there yet?' to him caused a great roar of mirth which cheered me even further.
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