Goshawks, dead foxes and bum/slope dilemmas

I’M ON THE TRAIN! No, really, I am. I didn’t have time to blog after my run this morning and so because I am so dedicated and committed to blogging every run, I decided to take my netbook with me on the slow train and blog during the journey.

Anyway, my run this morning. Yes, I did one. I am diligently following my Hal Higdon half-marathon plan to train for the Great South Run. I’ve been diligently following it since Monday and so far have only slacked on two out of the four days.

My run last Saturday was eventful. I was running down the trail and there was a man in front of me with a black dog, two young girls and… A BIRD OF PREY ON HIS ARM. I stopped running in case I scared the bird and hoped I could walk quickly enough to catch him up and say ‘oi, what’s that?’ and I did catch him up and I said ‘hello, what’s that’ (I left out the ‘oi’ bit) and he said ‘it’s a goshawk’ and I said ‘a what?’ and he said ‘a goshawk’ and I said ‘oh, a goshawk. That’s not something I see every day when I’m out for a run’. I didn’t have my camera on me, but here’s a photo of a goshawk.

And then one of the young girls said ‘I bet you’re in the Olympics’ and the man said ‘no’ and I thought ‘DID YOU HAVE TO SAY THAT QUITE SO QUICKLY? COULDN’T YOU EVEN HAVE HESITATED FOR A MOMENT BEFORE DISMISSING QUITE SO EASILY THE CONCEPT OF ME BEING IN THE OLYMPICS?’ and I thought that’s as bad as the supermarket self-service thingies when you have to wait for a member of staff to come and tell the machine that you’re ‘clearly over 25’ and they do it immediately without even hesitating and weighing up whether you are ‘clearly over 25’ or ‘hmm, borderline, but I’ll let her have that bottle of wine anyway’ and I was so offended at the man’s impudence that I couldn’t think of anything witty and, hopefully including a mention of Jessica Ennis, to say and came out with a lame ‘no, it’s sixty miles away’ which is probably the lamest response ever ever ever and then I say to the girls ‘I bet you can’t catch me up’ and they start running and the man calls them back and I think oops, maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged two young girls to go running off into the bushes with a stranger even if it is a stranger who is a) clearly over 25; and b) clearly not in the Olympics and I carry on with my run and I get over the ditch which isn’t full of water despite it having been raining heavily and then I see a dead fox and I don’t want to step over the dead fox but it’s too narrow to do anything but step over it and I wonder how it got there as there’s no road except for the one over the fence and maybe someone hit it with their car then stopped and got out and threw it over the fence or maybe it was in someone’s garden and they killed it and threw it over their garden fence and I’m brave and step over it and carry on my run and I can’t remember if anything else eventful happened on that run.

Today’s run almost didn’t happen as I set my alarm for 8 as I had to be back and ready to go to London at lunchtime to see Abigail’s Party in the afternoon (I like the matinees – plenty of time for going to the pub after) with Helen and as it takes me aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages to get ready (or more realistically, it takes me aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages to be arsed to get ready) but I didn’t get up ‘til 9 and so I didn’t get out for a run ‘til 10 and I put on my Asics and went on my run and didn’t see any goshawks or girls who think I’m in the Olympics or men who don’t think I’m in the Olympics and even the dead fox wasn’t there anymore and I wondered where the dead fox went and then I got to the slopey bit and there was a man at the top and I decided it would be shameful to let him see me walk up the slopey bit and then I realised my lace was undone and I wanted to do it up but didn’t want to bend over and have my bum sticking out in the air in front of the man and then I wondered which was more embarrassing; being seen to walk up a slopey bit or sticking my bum up in the air in front of him and I ran up the slope then I saw a railing thingy I could put my foot on and lace my shoe up without having to bend over too far and therefore not put him through having my bum sticking up in front of him and the rest of the run was uneventful and free of bum/slope dilemmas and I got in with plenty of time to get ready and then I go and get the train and I think that is where this story began.

p.s. Abigail’s Party was fab.

p.p.s. I’m not on the train anymore.