Gone Mango

L's on a day off today and is hence looking pretty laid back this morning and possibly keen to put me through my paces but I have to resist, I have a bus to catch.

I've taken the plunge and gone Mango, which is the pay-as-you-go travel card from Trent Barton, so it means I can just hop on and off the R4 on my runs to work. Which is what I do this morning. It's a nice morning for a run and again I greet as many people as possible. Some psychologist on the internet reckons that if everyone smiled at three strangers a day, it would cut the suicide rate by three-quarters. I'm not sure about that, I fear I might be having the opposite effect.

I complete the run in roughly the same time as usual but as I keep starting my watch in different places it's hard to tell, I must decide on a definitive start point.

L's decided that the cure for the pain of yoga is more yoga and she's booked in for a session today plus a gym session and a bike ride. Turns out that she does a two and a half hour bike ride, to Long Eaton and then across the Erewash Tri route, which she describes as 'vile' but it can’t have been that vile if she did it for two and a half hours. Two and a half hours! That's sore rear end territory. She says she ought to have a bath because she smells but says she might save it for when I get home. Does that mean she's saving the smell or the bath for me?

I don't win the baby stakes. Even my low guess was far too bouncing.

I jog/walk/Red Arrow home, arriving just as, if not more sweaty than L. Probably for the best because neither of us can complain then.

There's an email waiting for me from the organiser of the Caythorpe Duathlon. Yes, he says, there are places available and he's even taken the liberty of allocating me a number. Hmmm. All I need now is a bike.

After comparing aches/sweat we head down the local for a refreshing beer. Finally the new landlord has arrived. The good news is that the Supreme is back on. The bad news is that the 'little' dog we were told he had is not so little. Doggo takes an immediate dislike to it, they have to be separated and put in different rooms. How embarrassing but I can understand Doggo being miffed that there was another dog in 'his' pub. The landlord makes it up to him by giving him a few sausage rolls. I can't imagine I'd have got the same 'reward' had I picked a fight with him or his wife. It's a dog's life.