A beautiful early Autumn morning. Nice and warm and sunny. Drop Mrs B off at the station for her girls day out in a certain Spa Town (lovely place, but awful Rugby club 😉). Prosecco no doubt the order of the day, but relax chaps-they're all married.
Spent yesterday evening in the Shed watching the Cherry and Whites despatch the "Chiefs" (I mean, really? How many native Americans wander the streets of the poshest University town in the U.K.?). Anyhow-I digress. Slight Stowfords hangover on board, my two daughters, I and accompanying Black Lab trot off to the local playing fields.
To the sound of the new War on Drugs album (those Motorik rhythms are a great running assistant), Mr Johnson and I are off to complete week 3.
Which is done. And for good measure, the last 3 mins turned into 5 minutes 30. I've thought about whether I should be pushing those final runs-guess the rule is stay to the plan, but nothing wrong with a bit of extra if you're feeling ok. Again (and stop me if I've mentioned this before), I find it helps with the next week's runs if you know you can get close, and now the thought of running for 5 minutes is certainly not the daunting prospect it was only 2 weeks ago.
While at the rugby last night, my rugby mates asked how I was getting on. We're all over 50. They've been cycling (I will be joining them soon)-we all feel so much better. Posture, middle aged complexion etc. And while the middle aged spread is still there it feels strangely firmer.
On getting home spoke to neighbours Dad (70ish). Fit as butchers dog. A park runner. May well be on the agenda in a couple of weeks.
I do go on a bit...