I knew it. I bloody knew it. I didn’t plan to go out at 6 this morning, I decided to see what happened if and when I woke up. Would I leap out of bed or hide under the duvet? Technically neither, but kind of both.
Alarm sounds. I paw blindly at my phone to make it shut up (I swear the buttons are different every morning). I close my eyes. I open them again expecting it to be gone 6 o’clock so I couldn’t possibly run. It’s 5.35. I close my eyes and pull the duvet a little tighter. I listen. It’s not raining. That’s good. I lie there wondering if I’ve wasted enough time so I’m too late to go. It’s 5.40. I realise that if I do waste enough time to be too late to run, I will only be cross with myself. Then I’ll be grumpy. I swear at the inner workings of my mind. I stumble to the loo. I’m up now. I might as well run. I gather random bits of kit and play sock roulette. Inevitably I get two R’s. I locate an L. Miles sits out on the wheelie bin. I suspect he knows not to mess me around this morning. I hunt for keys. I cannot find keys. I wonder if my plan will be undone by keys. I decide to steal Ginge’s key and hope there isn’t a fire while I’m out. I play shoe roulette. I put on my right shoe. It takes far too long for me to realise that my left shoe doesn’t fit because it is also a right. Especially as one shoe is pink, the other purple. Shuffle is located, shoes match, key is borrowed, Miles has found his satellite. I adorn myself in hi-vis. I depart and run a funny T-shaped loop because I can’t decide which way to run, so I do a bit of both ways. I have run 3 miles and my Athon record lives to fight another day.
I will do this again tomorrow. Arse.