8.10am – Wife: ‘Aren’t you going for a parkrun this morning?’
Me: ‘Urrgghh – yep, going on my way’
Exit for kitchen, sound of kettle being switched on.
8:21: Me: ‘Cup of tea, for you’
8:34: Me (shouts upstairs to bedroom): ‘Where’s the keys to my bike lock?’
Wife: ‘What bike lock?’
9am: 200th Catton Park Run starts
There are two types of people in the world – those who know where their keys are, and those who don’t.
I’m in the former camp.
In fact, I’d solved this problem a long time ago – with a handmade pot in which I place my car keys etc when I come back home.
Simple, you see, and you don’t have to think about it – like always having spaghetti on a Monday while at university, eating tuna sandwiches every day for lunch at work, and dividing your running week into a short, medium, or long run.
Why waste energy thinking about it?
So keys were the last thing on my mind as I mentally got myself prepared to do the Catton Park Run.
Preparation had gone well.
I’d cooked carbonara for the family on Friday night, not for any health reasons per se, but because we had some bacon in the fridge, which needed eating up.
Yet we all know about ‘carb loading’ so I’d given myself a little mental pat the back that I was doing things right, despite the two glasses of white.
Ok, I’d stayed up a bit later than planned – the wife was watching that ITV documentary about London firemen, and showing a bit too much interest for my liking of shots of the lead firemen pumping iron in the station gym…
Catton Park is a semi-regular feature of my running – it’s just round the corner from where I live in Hellesdon so provides a nice bolthole route when I get a bit fed up with running down Marriott’s Way to Sloughbottom Park.
July 29th marked the 200th parkrun too, so after not going there for a while, it seemed like a good time to go back.
I’d spotted a post on Facebook inviting people to come along and also to wear a Tutu to celebrate.
Ok, so I didn’t have one of those, and although I was planning to reccie the Run Norwich route the next day, and I don’t go in for back-to-back runs anymore, it’s my local parkrun and I wanted to get along.
I also thought it would give me something to write about, after a couple of week’s absence from blogging, and I could do a nice write up like I did for the Mulbarton parkrun 200th anniversary.
And to complete the virtuous circle of hope, I could cycle there, too, and so get a bit of cross training in to boot – even a tiny amount.
8.42: Wife: ‘You better get a move on if you want to go for your parkrun’.
Me: ‘Forget it, I’ll never make it now.’
Wife: ‘What a shame. Why can’t you find our keys?’
Me: ‘Not in the pot.’
Wife: ‘Did you put them there?’ (Rummages through pot)
‘Anyway, there are far too many keys in here. What are all these for?’
Me: ‘No parkrun, no blog. That’s two weeks now. It’s starting to slip..
Wife: ‘Yep, your legion or readers will disappear. When did you last see them?
Me: ‘Erm.. on the microwave… after I went for a bike ride.. a few weeks ago..’
Wife: ‘Can’t you drive there?’
Me: ‘It’ll be heaving. it’s the 200th one so the Rec will be full too. I could just leave my bike there, but I don’t want to risk it. Knowing my luck it will get nicked again.
Wife: ‘Take your old bike.”
Me: ‘I’ll never make it now, anyway, it starts in eight minutes. I could always contact the organisers afterwards to find out how it went. Or they’ll post something on Facebook, anyway.
Got it! I’ll write one of those blogs about how I never quite get my act together. Another epic run fail.
Wife: ‘Those seem to be your best ones..’
Me: ..’Yeah, and how I overslept because I was sat up late because I was sat on the sofa while my wife was drooling over firemen on the telly.’
Wife: ‘I like the way you always try to make out it was my fault!’
Me: ‘Course I do, that’s what married life is all about! Still I’m doing the Run Norwich route tomorrow, so all is not lost.’
Wife: ‘And you’ve got time to do the shopping.’