It was dark, dank, cold and wet at 6.30am this rainy morning down in the woods. And wonderfully still and isolating. The air was saturated with the pungent aroma of wild garlic and that damp, close sensation of heavy morning dew. In shorts and a Tee, but really a vest would do, just to get closer, to feel more immersed in that wonderful sensation of being outdoors and alive. Though the place was otherwise dead, the air was rich with the sense of occasion that so many miss or never get to experience. Fine by me. Aside from a nails runclub training effort on Tuesday, this has been my only running around this week. I missed the 'Round the Runway' race last night, and it seems the British Masters Relays for which I was picked by virtue of my 'vet' status, rather than ability, has been pulled for tomorrow.
So that leaves Sunday, the Wilmslow Triathlon. Again I entered, again I have withdrawn on the grounds I still don't own a bike, though rode one at the velodrome this week, and cannot swim a metre of front crawl, never mind 400 of breaststroke. I do have aspirations in this direction, but it seems not enough to action. So what I've done is to 'upgrade' my place to a relay team. And on Sunday I will be unveiling my crack team of Tri enthusiasts in the shape of Jason on swim, Pete on bike and myself on the donkey run leg. We are going to win...and that's all there is to it. Watch this space!
I got chance this morning to again wear my Inov8 Talons, the very same that broke my feet before Christmas. No support or cushioning for sure, but they grip like grippy stuff. It was thick with mud this morning and I couldn't imagine wearing a better shoe. Other news, I've been having trouble in the gentleman's garden, so to speak. It seems foxes and cats are using the garden to crap at will, and frankly it's disgusting and I've been getting a little put out. This is my patch, and as such, the good neighbour has suggested I fight fire with fire and mark my territory. 
This idea was hanging around in my head for a while until I decided to try it. So for the past week, I have been peeing into a pot, and each morning under the cover of dawn, I've been liberally leaving my scent and finding the experience quite liberating and manly. And it seems the local cats have been appreciative of my work, for they seem to have flocked from miles around and joined in this 'spray-off'. It seems I'm not the cock of the garden, my garden, and I'm not happy. 
Unlike Rich Whitehead, who has comprehensively left his mark in the new Olympic Stadium during the para test events earlier this week. A new world record for him in the 200m on his own turf...a strong message to send out to those who dare to cross our threshold this September. My fine running efforts this morning were brought to a swift end as a bunch of local girls decided the grass was greener on my side of the fence. A kind of stand-off for a while, but I manned up and charmed them to look the other way as I minced by. Ridiculous! 