Looking good, Birch. Happy birthday. Very impressed with your recent long runs, by the way. I already suspected that my own training has been hopelessly inadequate, but it's good to have this confirmed. Thank you.
Today's half marathon in Tipperary wasn't my quickest ever, but it was certainly my most aesthetically pleasing result. 1:38.38 is such a cute little number, I'm tempted to dim the lights and subtly ask for its phone number.
As with pretty much everything else in Ireland, this event was somehow much more relaxed and enjoyable than its English counterparts. Well, apart from the beefy young man who took off his vest and sprinted past me, flexing his muscles. That was quite annoying. But everything else was hunky-dory.
Two months ago I laboured to a 1:45 in Freckleton and felt exhausted by the end. Well, in truth, I felt exhausted long before the end and the final few miles were a terrible grind. But today was comfortable and as I crossed the finish line I felt as though I could go back and do it all again. I couldn't have, of course. I was just being all giddy, trying to impress my 1:38.38 date.
I felt tall and proud when I wheeled my new 'Boardman for Beginners' out of the bike shop today. After a quick ride around the carpark, where I failed to work out how to change gear, I wheeled it back inside, in search of the uber-cool sales assistant Adam. As he taught me how to operate my new bicycle, I tried not to notice the smirk beneath his Kings Of Leon beard. The scamp.
Anyway, gears a-go-go, I set off on what turned out to be my longest ever bike ride. 33 miles, ladies and gentlemen. Completed with unassisted gear changes. Ha! Take that, beardy.