I went to watch Macc Town v Grimsby Town yesterday. My first football match since Bryan Robsons testimonial in 1990. You see, I know nothing about football. Everyone around me did, though, except the players and the 'liner'. He knew "fuck all" according to a guy behind me. A somewhat penetrating booming voice, that had me looking round every time he voiced his well placed commentary. Irritating is another word I'd use.
He did seem to have affection for a player called Danny Wheldon, "stay tight Danny Wheldon", and what I assumed were his brothers Scott and Andy of which there seemed to be a few. Overall, I couldn't decide if this was a display of heady passion, or something much more tribal. A potent cocktail of both, I suspect! Whatever, I was out of my depth. Some good running this week. The first light evening run of the year with James had us huffing a puffing up the hill to the Wizard, but cut back on a loop to the bottom of Artist Lane and back up that.
The transition through dusk into night was fun. Saturday parkrun, on Damian's advice remembering to keep the pedal down all the way and hang on, though obvious, was an exercise in self belief. A new course PB, but a challenging course. And today, to make a week of 43 miles was the most glorious of springlike mornings you could imagine. Steve brought injury to the morning and James, once he surfaced brought a sense of urgency.
Me, I watched Steve bolt off into the distance, with James closely following and I wondered quite what my part was in this 'date' they so eagerly wanted to join me for. Eventually, after I warmed up, I started to catch James, and then we both caught up with Steve. The sky was blue and sun low, it was shorts and tee shirt weather, a fact clearly none of us could believe as we were all over dressed and dripping excessively. At the top of the bypass, Steve dropped off the pace and urged us on.
James got all jiggy with his watch and cranked up the pace shouting numbers at me. The thing about running is, it's a head sport. Somehow, the last 5k we ran today of our 12.5 miler was way quicker than my parkrun 5k yesterday. How is that possible, after 9 tough miles to knock out an effort faster than that I could manage yesterday over a 5k distance in its own right? As we stopped for coffee and looked back, there's no Steve to be seen.
Not for a further 15 minutes when we start to assume he'd died or been abducted, does he appear with a grin on his face from the opposite direction. To our 12.5 miles, Steve added a bit more to make the full 13.1. A moral victory for him! As he reminded us...Wilmslow Half Marathon in 2 weeks...my racing highlight of the year.
PS: Well done, not Wheldon...as in 'Danny (or whoever), well done'.
