As conversation starters go, it was a hopeless non-starter. There were four of us on Monday evening for our scheduled 4-mile-easy. "What kind of undies do you wear with your running tights, Rich?" Well, we all nearly spluttered to a halt. James likes things to be right, and needs to know what everyone else is up to so he can position himself accordingly. It was the honesty and conviction of his question which had us laughing, because he was deadly serious. He wanted to know.
Once we quietened down, it seemed we all in fact had a fair bit to offer. There was some actual discussion. Even Steve, he who doesn't speak, chipped in. "Fuck all", he offered, causing a moments pause and a glance in his direction to confirm he too was serious. But there was no escaping James's overuse of the word 'support'. It's not a criteria I've ever considered as I delve into my undie draw. Chris goes baggy. I go tight, in winter, preferring many layers to beat the cold and prevent any unwanted attention when I order my coffee.
Before we knew it, we'd finished and were crossing the road to the Leisure Centre...and my appointment with Wayne. Long story short, Monday was the last time I ran. And I'm bummed. A long week of travel and many great things seen and discussed. I'm genuinely fearful for the future of my running around. Such an about turn of fortune in such a short space of time. I intend to run a max of 3 miles tomorrow, Wayne said...and ride on Sunday. Once a bad back, always a bad back, I was once told. Support is what I need right now.
