Fine Wine

Back to the grind today after a busy weekend. Despite that L sounds positively chirpy, for saying it's a Monday. I’m feeling the after effect of the race and have a bit of a problem with the stairs at work. L rubs it in by sending me a worryingly long list of 10k races. Foolishly I make a note of every one.

I finally get hold of a set of results for the 10k she did last Monday which proves that what she's been telling everyone, that there were only three people behind her, wasn't true. Naturally she's still not happy, which is good in a way but there’s no pleasing some people. There were a massive 800 behind her at Lincoln and she wasn't happy there either. Again this is good. Motivation. That's the word.

We have no dog class tonight, so I take Doggo out with his football. I have lots of time because with the clocks having gone forward the park is now open until almost a reasonable time, so I make him walk at heel, stopping every time he pulls. It's slow progress and it totally infuriates him.

He gets his own back when we are within yards of the park gates by stopping for ages exploring the 'scent' of where another dog has been. First we have the sniffing phase, then the licking phase. I stand there tapping my foot. It must be a good drop of stuff he's found. After what feels like half an hour, I get fed up and pull him away. He stands there looking at me, his lips still moving. It looks like he’s swilling the substance around his mouth as if it was a fine wine. Disgusting. He is fond of a drop of vintage urine, particularly if it's been deposited by a girl dog. I can concur with some of Doggo habits as regards the female of his species but not this one.

I arrive back just as L is getting ready to run to yoga. L has already promised to massage my aching muscles tonight but after a run and the evil yoga it might be me who has to administer the massage. I cook a curry and then collect her from yoga in the car. After eating, it's an early night and a joint massage.