Time To Retire

I’m not looking forward to this. The Long Eaton 5 miler, last year I ran 32.15. On Wednesday I was 90 seconds slower over the same distance and it nearly destroyed me. Can’t see there being any improvement today.

L runs there, which is seven miles. So that’s quite impressive in itself. I warm up by throwing balls for the dogs and glaring at everyone who I think will beat me.



I start the race with what I think is a steadier pace than Wednesday but at the mile marker, with my protégée alongside me, we clock 5.55, and he had the nerve to say I started too fast on Wednesday. This is the same suicidal pace that caused me to set 32.15 last year. I have no such lofty illusions this year or the stamina to do so. Protégée deserts me at two miles and that’s the end of that. I finish 15 seconds slower that I did on Wednesday. Protégée edges under 33 minutes. Time to retire perhaps and make way for the youngsters.

At least they have the free Marston’s Pedigree on again and L buys me some cakes as a pick me up. Then we drown my sorrows in the Navigation. That’s the pub, not the canal. Although it’s tempting. Perhaps if I look particularly wounded and desperate L might offer me some TLC this afternoon.

The rest of the afternoon is spent chilling in the garden where, in a slight reversal of earlier, the dogs throw balls at me. In an attempt to persuade me to throw them back, they have no sympathy for tired (and old) limbs.