Double Bill

On Tuesday, I had a meeting in London during the day, so I wasn't able to get the running in then. Although I was back at about 5:30 and therefore, theoretically had plenty of time between then and 7:30 to go running, I was just kindof a bit knackered and in need of a sitdown. I was aware as I did this that it was a poor idea, because while being a bit knackered at 5:30 is not uncommon, I've never felt less knackered after a rehearsal, and thought, I know, I'm all widey-wakey now, I'll enjoy this run (although I have done the running nonetheless). But, it's not like I'm master of my own body or anything. Oh wait.

So, I thought, at very least, I can get myself ready for rehearsal, and ready for tomorrow. I scanned my lines, decided they'd pass, and then thought I'd better look out that ticket. See, a while back, I was at the Cambridge Theatre Festival, and met one of the actresses afterwards in the pub, and after a chat, established that she had two tickets for Henry V that she couldn't otherwise use. So I offered to buy them off her. I put the tickets out on offer, and accepted Tom's offer to take up a ticket, and take me in his car. The trusting lady had posted me the tickets, and I (eventually) posted her a cheque. The tickets weren't on the table where they should have been. I recalled that during the laryngitis incident, there had been a late night (and possibly somewhat drunken) game of Absolute Balderdash at my house, and we'd cleared the table, so I checked the piles of deposited papers, but to no avail. I had to leave around that juncture, not feeling very prepared, for rehearsal.

I learned while I was there that while Prospero claims the most lines in the play, this is seconded by Ariel, so it is not without some cause that I complain about the number of lines I have to learn, even though it pales into insignificance next to Peter's voluminous texts. He said with some asperity that it irritates him when people say "It's alright for you, you can learn lines easily", when actually, while he CAN learn lines, this is still not without a lot of hard work... I was pleased to hear that he had learned about the relative numbers of lines from some Wikipedia page, not from actually counting them.

While I was at rehearsal, I told Tom that I may have lost the tickets. He laughed as if to say "Oh Emma, you're such a wag" rather than "You stupid idiot, how could you be so careless", which I felt would be a fairer reaction. It wasn't until almost the end of the evening, while telling Peter that I couldn't go to the pub because I still had 5k to run, that I realised that there was no way I was going to be able to run the following day. I'd just arranged with Tom that in the unlikely event that I found the tickets, we'd leave at 5:30, so the obvious recourse would be to run during lunchtime, but rather cataclysmic-ally, Sally, as in Sal, AKA Miss P, is leaving work, for ever, well, our work, she is taking on Fit Naturally full time. And the long and the short of it is, it's her leaving do. While it would be most fitting for me to go running in honour of her leaving do, I sort of thought that I'd like to be there.

I started to panic. I couldn't really  afford the time to skip out for a leaving lunch and a run during work (I know I did last Wednesday, but in fairness, I was so upset that really, work owed me pilates and a run, and they wouldn't have gotten anything out of me that afternoon without it, so it was fair dos). The only way I could really do it, actually get the run in tomorrow, was by going in the morning. Then I had an idea. An awful idea. I had a wonderful, awful idea (to quote, or misquote, The Grinch). If I were to delay going for my run tonight, until half 11, I could run 10K, instead of 5. I'd get 5K in before midnight, and 5 in after midnight, i.e., tomorrow. Yes, I could do a morning run. Just not by getting up for it.

I resolved to find the tickets, and then go for the run. Did I do a full safety check? Well, yes. I thought about it. And my thinking was thus: 11:30 isn't that different from 10-10:30, and I often go out around then. I've never felt threatened or endangered. Most serious attacks, like, rapes, happen by someone you know, and I don't know anyone who hangs around late at night. I fail to see why they should happen at that time over any other time (especially in Peterborough). I like the roads at that time of night, I like the aloneness, darkness, it's fun, and makes me think of Guys and Dolls, which is sadly lacking from my music, although I doubt it really has the beat to make a running song. ("My time of day is the dark-time, a couple of hours before dawn/ when the street belongs to the cop, and the janitor with the mop, and the grocery clerks are all gone.... with the smell of the rain-washed pavement / comes a clean and fresh and cold / and the street-lamp lights fill the gutters with gold... that's my time of day" etc). Although I have to say, in Peterborough the street mainly belongs to the drunks staggering home, but they are usually pretty friendly.

I failed to find the tickets and also, while trying to delete a tune that has been irking me for some time from my phone, I inadvertently deleted the whole track of music from my computer. I thought I'd be able to re-sync it with my phone, but all I succeeded in doing was deleting it off there too. This was irritating, especially coupled with the failure of the theatre tickets, I was now going to have to deal with the night in silence. See if I still found it unscary. (Perhaps if I sang the Guys and Dolls track myself... or maybe that would be scary for anyone else out at that time).

I set off, slightly late at about 11:26, without having any clear idea of where I was running to. I eventually decided I didn't want to run "the loop" twice (although it might have been fun to test the relative distances recorded for both runs that way). I veered off to do a loop around Fengate and Padholme Road East. What? It was fine. I never saw a soul (reminding me of this line in a favourite story, where the retort was "they don't have any souls" - Cue for Treason). I was happily pottering up some road which was no longer Padholme, but vaguely nearby, when I glanced at the time. It was ten to twelve, and I'd only just cleared two miles. I had to get 1.13 miles into under ten minutes! I didn't think I could run that fast for that long, but I was going to have to die trying. I started running faster, keeping a balance between what was possible and what I (thought I) could maintain for a mile. I veered faster and slower as these conflicting aims crashed into each other. I tried to figure out what would happen if I only ran 4.8 km. I realised that no one would care, and most people wouldn't even know, but one person would. Me. I wanted to run 5k every day in May. Not 4.8 one day, because I was a bit disorganised. This thought was really all that kept me going. I made sure I slightly over-ran 5km, as I've noticed a discrepancy in what runkeeper says on the screen as you finish, and what it ultimately records, which I have to say, upsets me. I submitted, and restarted runkeeper, safe in the knowledge that my 16th May run was logged. This meant I could slow down terrifically, which I did. I didn't care how slowly I did this one, the main thing was that it got done. I saw some people loading a transit, and vaguely, once again, wondered if I were witness to a houseclear. I suspected the girl was doing it while her erstwhile boyfriend was on nightshift, for some reason. I get these thoughts, and like to follow through the story in my mind.

I also decided that while I was clear headed, as one is during a run, I should empty my mind of all other things, and find the theatre ticket. While it certainly should have been in the pile of stuff, I'd been through it twice, and I was pretty sure it wasn't there. I'd cursorily checked the rest of the house, and, as I have often thought while searching for things that don't want to be found, it isn't a big house. I put my mind to it, and decided that there were two possibilities: I had put it in my handbag (checked) but taken it out at work - that's where I was when I paid the cheque. It could be in the office. Failing this, and using the Holmsian theory that "when you have exhausted all other possibilities, the last one, however improbable, must be correct", I reasoned that the only other place it could be was in the recycling bin. I resolved to collapse into bed on arriving at home, but get up with enough time to rifle the bins, and then go to the office and check there.

I carried this plan out, and am relieved but also ashamed to report that the theatre tickets (all £30 of them) were in my recycling bin. By a stroke of luck, I hadn't put the bin out the previous Wednesday, judging it less than 1/3 full and therefore not worth it. We had a lovely send-off for Sally, where we heard some funny stories about her (especially her first interview with the organisation, with a genuine naivety that was purely charming, where she described how she'd shown up, as a proper Essex girl, in white stiletos and a short purple dress, i.e. totally inappropriate to "us lot", and seriously said "I can't think how I got the job" - with everyone else thinking "hmm, I can hypothesise on that one..." (she's so lovely). We then went to the Tap, where I introduced everyone to Jonni, and Sal tried to give him one of her FitNaturally business cards, which he refused because they were too stiff to use as a roach. I suggested to Sal that she might like to branch into DetoxNaturally, because Jonny wasn't going to be signing up for any exercise.

I managed to leave work ontime to get home for 5:30, and Tom and I sailed off to Cambridge, where we heartily enjoyed our show, although the seats were in the front row of the circle, they were very cramped for the knees. Tom is really quite tall, and my knees were suffering, so, having usurped the better seat (because of being short) I used the opportunity to talent-spot a couple of empty seats in the stalls. We made a switcheroo in the interval, where I got Tom to admit that he wouldn't have dreamt of upgrading his seats in such a fashion. The St Crispin's day speech was very well done, and actually, the whole play was brilliantly staged. We enjoyed the after-show talk with the cast, and wended our merry way home afterwards. I was relieved, although also somewhat exhausted, with my clever ruse for getting the run out of the way, because we didn't get home until after midnight. SUCCESS!