It's not an expensive hobby, running around, but the principal reason I'm running the inaugural Tatton Half Marathon tomorrow is that I've invested £22 for the privilege and I'm not really prepared to let that go to waste. Ordinarily, after a day like today, I just might plan for some Sunday sofa action, keeping a keen eye on the steady decay of my garden. Some months ago, Tatton was high on my agenda. A sub 1:30 twinkled in my eye, but now it's tomorrow and it seems I've made no effort whatsoever in chasing that dream.
Today, I had a couple of guys in my sights. There may have been 10 runners between me and the next Wilmslow guy, but you only focus on the Blue and Gold such is the hunger for points. Langley was an up and down. I lost places going up, but going down I chased and chased hard. To say I pipped him on the line would be a bit of an understatement, but as I lunged past, learning from last week, with 100m to go, I heard him grunt. Then on the line, he said "where did you come from?"
I sensed a hint of something, like I'd been un-gentlemanly somehow. Where had I come from! Well, from the top of the hill, I was 50m behind with 3.5 miles to go. From that moment on my eyes were firmly fixed forwards and I hauled him in, metre by hard fought metre. That point was mine, I wanted it and I worked bloody hard for it, even if it took me while to execute. Back at the Village Hall, all was well, awesome cakes like never before and a finishers bottle of beer. Everyone's just waiting for the final results now. Its been a long 'Summer'!
