If It Kills Me...

Back on the bike today. It's cold but sunny. Very pleasant and fast. The roads are extremely quiet; it's the 'Easter' school holidays in Derby, and enjoyment wise it was probably better than yesterdays run. I'm tempted to run tomorrow as well, if I could just figure out a way of getting my running kit home. There's only so much I can stuff in my backpack and I've already got my swimming kit with me. I can assemble another set of kit but then I’d have even more stuff to get home and both my pairs of running trousers are already at work. Life's so complicated, how does everyone else cope? L says they all skip work and claim benefits instead.

L 'helpfully' suggests that I cut out the social life and then do what most psychos would do. Which is cycle to work and then run home, and then the next day they would run to work then cycle home, thus necessitating only one kit. That sounds even more exhausting, so it’s a bloody good job that I’m not a psycho.

Derby County ring me at work to remind me that season ticket renewals need to be done by Saturday. I tell them that April is far too early to be asking people to renew and I'm not sure whether I'm going to. Then when I've sent them away with a flea in their ear, I renew on line. Hypocrite.

On the way home I pull up at the lights and an old chap undertakes me, using the pavement to bypass the lights. Honestly, it's no wonder us cyclists get a bad name when the 'old hands' are doing that. By the time the lights change he's long gone.

I bike to the pool and do something that feels like 30 lengths but I'm hopeless at counting, so I'm not sure. I end up in lane 1, where it's quietest but thankfully the pace is fairly sedate. On the way home I spot L walking home. We both reach the crossroads at the same time, just as the lights conveniently change to red and I have to stop. Which means I can reach over and grab her for a quick snog, all before the lights change to green again.

Wednesdays are pretty mad and phase three is dog class. Doggo, annoyingly, is pretty well near paw-perfect. I just know he's rubbing it in for being rubbish at the event over the weekend. Although perhaps the fact that 'my new dog' isn't there has something to do with it.

I've been on a promise from L for tonight but the poor girl looks totally knackered. Not that I'm any better, as I said Wednesdays are pretty mad. All the same I intend to run to work again tomorrow. I think I've got enough kit at hand. I'll crack 41 minutes for the 10k, if it kills me, which it probably will.