Anyway, the run on Friday was a challenge. I just didn't know when I could do it. It's all very well for Nigel and moustachioed Chris to go for a run at 6 in the morning, but I personally am unable to do this. The reason being that after rehearsal on Thursday night, I went to the pub with Jonni and Rich, and we had a lovely chat, then I was VERY naughty and went to that kebab shop I'd seen earlier to get a bag of chips; and then I went to bed, and it just got to be very very late. I know, on a school night too. But I had it all worked out... it's a bank holiday weekend, and I plan to Spring clean (house and garden, weather permitting, but I'll settle for the house if it doesn't), rest lots, and eat very healthy food with lots of veg, to get myself fighting fit. I'm always bad at going to bed, and try to resolve to go to bed earlier, and usually end up being worse than ever. I shamelessly stole this from Facebook... (thank you Relaxx Pleasse) as it sums it up pretty well. Basically, no, I didn't go running before work on Friday.
So, there was Friday lunchtime, and Friday evening. Now Friday lunchtime would ordinarily be a good bet, but the problem was I had a hair appointment. I'd actually moved this from Saturday, after I found that my lovely hair dresser only had an 8:30 appointment. See above for why this would have been a bad idea. It seems criminal to have your hair cut and made all beautiful, and then go for a run, although I did contemplate it because Laura finished in half an hour, and with a bit of flexi, I could have stretched lunchtime a bit. But I had (or thought I had) a meeting at half two with my boss, so I thought I'd better not. In the event, he didn't show up, so I could have done, but my psychic skills were flagging. Laura was mightily impressed that I could run three miles, let alone every day, which was charming.
After work then...? Well, you know what happens on Fridays... it's the end of a week, and a group of my friends tend to convene in a local hostelry and discuss the week's events over a beverage or two. I'd just about settled on the idea that I was prepared to walk for 3 miles today (walking's allowed as long as you do the distance) and wondered if I had too many, whether 1.5 miles in a zigzag line would count? But then, as the Friday night Plan came together, people said they were quite happy to go home and get some food first (and walk the dog), and then meet up, which was perfect, and enabled me to properly suffer the run, and not skive.
So, homeward, and togged up, I set off. No bare foot shoes today, I'm thinking of a plan for the weekend. First thing was, I ran into Keith! It wasn't entirely unexpected, I knew he was on his way home, but for someone who has technically left Peterborough, it counts as note-worthy (reason: he hasn't sold his house yet). He has rather brilliantly sponsored me a whole £30, and he always likes to put an incentive into his donations: usually it will be something like, £1 for the first 12 miles, £19 for the last 1.1 miles! So, when he emailed me to say he would try to think of an incentive, I checked out my Just Giving page straight away! (You should too... Just Giving). He'd written: £2 for the first week, £4 for week 2, £8 for week three, and £16 for week 4! This is very apposite. Just think how much I'll be struggling by then. I shall try not to. Anyway, we wished each other good weekends, and I plodded on. The rain, or rather, missle, started very gently at about 2km. Refreshing.
On Newark Avenue, thinking about friends who had posted about Star Wars (because of it being May 4th) I digressed to Dr Who. I'm not sure why, but Sal, and her aura of power, crept into my mind at about the same time as The Master. It fitted very well, apart from the obvious point of The Master being male. It struck me that as The Master is the adversary of The Doctor, then surely, by extension of the metaphor, that means that I must therefore be The Doctor. Which was nice, because I like being a scientist, and have always wanted to be a Doctor. (So proud of the slack researchers at The Telegraph who awarded me a PhD... so it is official.). And then it all fitted together... the Doctor being a time traveller, and all, and me having sorted out my time crisis.
My friends were overwhelmed at my modesty, later on in the pub, when I expounded this idea.
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