Every Good Boy Deserves.. err...Cake. I was never much good at music at school, though I was a good singer, or I had a good voice, so we had to learn various mnemonics to help with the understanding of musicy stuff. Clearly I was distracted. But cake is Food, I thought. I really enjoy music now, and think back to those days and wonder what if I had followed that passion. 
And I certainly never was much good at running, back then. But I did always enjoy my birthday, yet in adulthood, that soon turned to dread. Nothing to do with advancing years, though. So I like to spend a little private time on my birthday and this year a trip out to Bramhall Park Run was a good preparation, physically and emotionally for the day to come. It was a hot morning, the Park was already busy with a small but enthusiastic crowd of spectators gathering to applaud us runners on our way. Feeling a little chipper, I assessed my chances of nailing that sub 20 for a second time. I was very tired, but would give it my best. Honour at stake today
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During any run or race there are distinct periods or phases I go through. A speedy start where you think you can run like this all day, a gradual realisation that in fact you can't but settle into some kind of rhythm, the moment when that rhythm becomes hard work but sustainable...and then that moment you realise you're done...and it's all about hanging on to the end. It was with a degree of resignation that that final phase arrived quite early during the first lap of the two lap course, and so I realised the game was up. I should have baled out on the first lap. On the home straight, oblivious to the cheer, I was already questioning why...my time had gone, I'd again forgotten (I suspect lost) my bar code, so I wasn't even going to record a time and my Garmin conked out...why bother? Honour and cake. 