Tuesday, 3 February 2015

Dungarvan 10

There were no fist pumps or high fives not even a subdued 'yeeeah' at the back of my mind. Relief was the overriding emotion and a big 'thank fuck for that' gave way to a contented silence and stoned grin rather than the usual high speed post race chat. Five years after coming down here thinking I could run under the hour as good as the next man I did.

The start line was a nervous affair. A below par marathon last October left me with a bad taste in my mouth and I wasn't in the form for more of the same today. I didn't give myself the option of going slower than six min. miling. A simple plan, stick with the 60min. pacer leave him with two or three miles to go if the opportunity arises (Ha!). This is fast by my standards but to put things in perspective there were guy's on the start line who were capable of running over a minute faster per mile which would leave them with enough time to boil the kettle and have a cup of tea by the time I'd see the finish line.

Blocking out the doubts became a full time job during the warm up and for most of the race I had a real problem with the fast approaching 7/8 mile mark where I blew my lights last year to come home in 60.43. I had always envisaged that if I were to run sub 60 that I'd do it comfortably on a day that I wouldn't feel the road. The truth was the exact opposite. A congested and edgy first few miles left no room for comfort and by the time we hit mile four it seemed to have taken its toll. Elbows and knees fought for the smooth line, a few close heel clips didn't help the flow and with heavy legs approaching mile 5 it took a big effort to hang into a dwindling group which left me thinking I could be the next one out the back door. Too close to Groundhog day for comfort, how was I going to deal with that shit for the next thirty minutes?

Through mile five in 29.40 meant nothing apart from the fact that I'ts a time I'd be happy with on a summers evening down in Ballycotton. Conventional wisdom would have said the next few miles should pass a bit easier with the help of a tailwind and thankfully the nerves did settle a bit and I finally got somewhere close to cruising, if only for a mile or two.

Miles seven and eight were sick. Mentally as much as physically, Once I pass 10k at this pace I feel like I'm in uncharted territory and again I find myself fighting the demons. 'Whats the point in running a fast mile around the track on a Wednesday night if you can't run a solid 10 when it matters?', cursing myself approaching mile nine I momentarily lose contact with the pacer, 'Never again, 10k's max from now on, fuck this'...... 'shit I better keep going!'......'Not for this all those murderous wednesday nights at the track'..........'Not for this the..........'.

Turns out his pace was a bit erratic. I didn't have a watch on so I didn't realise it at the time. I didn't wear a watch 'cos my race plan didn't require that kind of technology. With a mile to go the pacer started dropping back which was proof he'd brought us out fast. (Understandable I suppose as he's one of the faster men in the south and was drafted in late to do the job after the race organisers were left short) This was good, it meant there was time to spare and meant that as much as I'd try to I didn't have to do the last mile in under six minutes .

Mile nine - on schedule, in bits. The head keeps rolling, you find a little something to give to the legs and the smell of the finish line get's stronger but your still not there. 'Whats the clock going to say when I come round the last bend?'

The Holy Grail - finishing The longest hour 59.27 (Pic - Kieran Minihane)

By the time my eyes adjusted to the low winter sun I could see 59.14, it took another thirteen seconds to cross the line. One milestone that a few years ago I didn't think I'd see. If I could just squeeze eleven minutes out of somewhere I could be in with a shout for the podium.


It was a good day for Grange AC
Joan Ennis - 1st o50
My co-driver (perennial hardman) Maurice Tobin - 1st o65
John Murphy - 2nd o45
3 of us in the top 100, all of us finishing.
Full Results

The latest mode of transport Brooks Running - Pure connect 3

So long                

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

5k it ain't

"I guess you shouldn't be sweating by the time you turn off the quays entering mile 4 but hey, this is the Dublin marathon. I'm feeling a bit rough at the mo' but that's ok. I'v never felt good at the start of any of my long training run's and I'v a habit of coming round later in the day. I'll be grand".........says I. 

If a fraction of the advice I'd come across over the last 6 week's had sank in I'd probably ease off a bit at this stage but listening to advice is not my forte and learning from experience seems to be the only thing that works.

With no specific plan on the start line only to run out a bit ahead of the 3hr men and meet them a mile or two down the road once the field had spread out a bit but three consecutive 6.38 miles threw that idea down the drain when I couldn't see them behind me on Chesterfield avenue. I had no particular reason to run out ahead of the three hour man only that I thought I could manage it, instead of trying to convince myself to run under three hours I had decided that this was going to be my hardest training run to date. Turns out I wasn't wrong but I couldn't remember what race I was training for. A bitch of a crosswind made it hard to get shelter after finding myself between groups (this was the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't let happen) so I took my foot off the gas a bit (at 6.40min mile my foots not normally 'on the gas' but as I was to discover in the context of my relationship with 26.2 mile's it was on the gas alright) and waited for three or four lad's coming from behind.

Out the gap at the top of the park and my familiarity with the course came to an end, the short climb on Castleknock road was more of a shock to me than the park and I didn't handle it too well, I was using caution as an excuse to ease off but in hindsight I was already struggling and was glad to hit the long descent back into the park. A nice reprieve before a block headwind came to greet us on Chapelizod road, the first real kick in the arse and a realization that my second marathon could be going sour. Meeting the 3hr group on the hill after Chapelizod was confirmation. I got through the toughest section from 12 to 14 with these guy's and as it said on the tin it was all downhill from here, it certainly was and in more ways than one in my case.

This was where I was supposed to pick it up in the race that I had imagined I was going to run, pick it up and power on home, leave the group I was in and start picking up a few of the lad's up the road, power on to the four mile to go mark and let gravity do the rest but (Knock knock, hello anyone home), this is a marathon. I hadn't given that as much attention as I probably should have in my pre race prophecy. I visualised it as a race. At my level it can't really be a race until you get to the last five or six miles feeling strong. (I'm sure I learnt that before somewhere but the dog ate my homework). It's all coming back to me now "If the first mile feels ok your going too fast", "The second half of the marathon starts at the 20 mile mark", now I'm learning. "Don't get carried away in the first few miles, it's easy to with the crowd" (I was actually told that ON the start line with a minute to go).  Ah yes a 5k it ain't and by mile 16 I was a temporary member of Thomas the tank engine's 3.10 group.

I won't get into the gorey details of the last 10 miles but If I told you to make up a paragraph using the word's walk, jog, water stops, people watching, plodding, water, disorientation, hallucination, elation, water, high, low, anger, indifference, gel, Ray D'Arcy, nasty marketing at the top of Roebuck hill and the waste of a good downhill into the finish you'd probably come up with something close to what I'm trying to get at. Despite sharing the road with fourteen and a half thousand other's it's a lonely old place when the shit hit's the fan. Disappointment doesn't come into it. You just know it's going to be a ball breaker to get to the line and on the practicality side of thing's how else are you going to get back into town to pick up your gear? So not to put too fine a point on it, with four downhill miles to go I, like a lot of my comrades was deep in the proverbial.

There were some big effort's from Grange AC, with Johnny (10th), Joan (2nd) & Clo (3rd) leading the way running out of their skins to get top 10 in their categories in the national Champs. Enthusiatic crowd's, recognisable face's and pig headedness carry you to the line nearer to the finish but that's fair payment as I'm holding them partly responsible for an over eager first few miles too. The masse's that stood on Parliament street turning onto the quays just after the two mile mark didn't have to work as hard as those on Merrion road to keep me going with a mile and a half to go. Like I said pre marathon, it's a long way. I had to do it (again) to convince me though.

Obligatory 'pre' marathon vest on bed pic.

- More miles.
- Diminishing pain threshold (getting soft).
- Questionable concentration levels.
- Under raced. Though the need for recovery is important I think I could have done with another race between Charleville half and Dublin. The experts might say otherwise though.
- Giving the whole thing too much thought.

On Monday afternoon I was convinced I'd run my last marathon, by Tuesday evening I'd isolated the finer points of my downfall and by Wednesday I was kicking myself and wondering how to turn back the clock to the start line on Monday morning for a second chance. 

That's why we can't turn our back on it but for now some rest and back to the short stuff.

Wednesday, 8 October 2014

The Commitments for the Dublin Marathon

No it's not a comeback gig for Neil Jordan's eighties blues band, it's just over two weeks out from my second marathon attempt and the commitment's for the Dublin marathon are all but behind me bar trying to get a few good night's sleep, I'v been laying low trying to train clever and keeping my eye pretty much on the ball. The 26.2 miles is still a trip to the almost unknown but I'v learnt enough from my previous attempt in Cork three years ago to play the cagey game on marathon Monday. That alone wouldn't be enough to drive home the message but I'm lucky enough to share the road's around Fermoy with some very experienced marathoner's and ultra runner's who don't mind passing on the lesson's learned from their own experience's. Any run with these guy's is big benefit country and make's the bigger mileage seem like an everyday thing because as far as they're concerned it is.

More comfortable in the surround's of the shorter stuff I'm still unconvinced about the return you get from the long term commitment to marathon training, maybe Dublin will change that. There are a lot of sacrifices in the form of missed pb opportunities in the shorter race's thro'out the summer, Saturday & Sunday afternoons struggling to keep my normal face on while my leg's beg me to collapse in a heap at the nearest coffee shop. Fatigue seem's to be a constant as you get deeper into the mileage pit.

On the other hand it's normal, a lifestyle thing and maybe it's the fact of focusing on one particular event increase's the intensity a bit. If  it wasn't marathon training I'd still be doing something. Tipping away. The regular training routine is a valuable release valve that's missed when it's not there so it's a big part of the weekly routine. Apart from the long run's which I'v struggled with mentally more than physically the rest of it's been easy. At this stage it's what I do.

Local past-marathon runner described it (marathon training) to a tee, "It's like 12 week's of overtime", while it's not easy to train for a quality five miler it take's far less time and mile's for a much quicker return. Therin may lie the draw of the big one. There's more at stake, getting to the start line in good shape is an achievement in itself with many falling victim to one of a multitude of running injury's. As I write this there's probably 90% of us on the start list for Dublin worried about some niggle in their knee, hip, tendon, IT band or whatever buzz injury of the time. In general though 90% of that 90% have nothing to worry about apart from the suffering over the last six or seven mile's and that's what we pay our money for.

I'v had the Dublin itch for the last few year's so it was just a matter of time before it had to be scratched. Memories of my only other marathon attempt and a clash with the Jazz weekend kept me away from it 'till now. It still clash's with the Jazz weekend but the increase in mileage has decreased my ability to party and Chic aren't on the gig list this year.

I took this while on marshalling duty at this year's Ballycotton 10.  Sergiu Ciobanu looked very comfortable on his way to his 4th consecutive win, little did I know we'd have the honour of his presence on a regular basis down in Fermoy for the summer.

Typically for me an unorthodox, unstructured, unplanned training program has been the norm. Most importantly regular routine outing's varying between 40 minute's and three hours have been the order of the day with a religious midweek visit to the track for some intensity work. As part of Grange AC master's I'v been one of the lucky benefactor's of  Clo and Darren's good work in getting Sergiu to the track on a Wednesday night to put us auld lad's thro' our pace's. No rocket science, just hard work at an intensity that I havn't reached for year's (if ever). I'v been treating these Wednesday night session's like a race and if nothing else they've been a great focal point and opportunity to work under one of Ireland's/Moldova's great distance runner's.

So for now it's maintenance & recovery time and time too to remind myself that 'not every pain is important', (That's a Scott Jurek'ism that Maciej threw at me today).  If it hasn't been done by now it's too late. kick back too much and we'll all be stuck to the road on Marathon monday. I went out on the bike last Sunday to nurse my niggle (hmm?, give my back a rest sound's better.) and rode 28 miles on a regular bike route. Now I have the distance in persepective. It's far.


Tuesday, 15 July 2014

Holding out for the hero

OK, I admit it, every so often I get a notion that the form I would like to have is actually the form that I do have. Take last Sunday morning for example at the Fit Mag 10k at The Marina in Cork. Nice morning, Nice setting and a flat(ish) traffic free course. Alive with positive vibes I convinced myself to run out hard and hold on when the shit hit the fan, I could do that now 'cos I'm fitter than I have been see. Now how many time's has that plan not worked? I'v lost count.

But today was going to be different, I'v more running done in the last six week's than ever before (reason no.1 that my plan was to fail, fatigue), It's a perfect morning for running (reason no.2, I havn't raced an early morning race since Cork Marathon 2012, enough said!), I havn't raced since Coolagown at the end of June and I'v convinced myself I'm hardly even going to feel the road! (reason no. 3, sometime's with a lack of racing, confidence in the ability to suffer diminishes and when the hurt does come on it's hard to deal with, and to put it bluntly, you crack and pretty much fall to pieces) so the star's are aligning today. I'm going to go out hard, do the hero on it and bury myself when the hurt comes. 36 min I'd say, maybe even late 35's.

10K is 6.2 miles or thereabout's, I don't get too caught up in exact distance's, everyone has to run the same course but I do have a habit of running to mile pace. So, it's 6 mile's, the last 0.24 miles is irrelevant, just a case of holding it together to the finish line, everyone's goosed at that stage.

From the gun my leg's are like jelly. No panic settle and run through it. Panting hard as I find myself in a group of four running along the Marina towards Blackrock. The other three are more comfortable, I'm the one making noise. We hit the mile marker at 5.40, the pace has settled and I'v calmed down a bit, I'll be grand. Nice and flat.

Continuing a few degree's below 'flat out' I'm beginning to tell myself in a loud 'slightly' distressed voice that I'm fine (in my head). The hill out of Blackrock village is telling me otherwise and the conflict is starting to raise some doubts as I try to hang on my three companion's. They look like there's not a bother on them. Still four and I'm still the backmarker as we get slight reprieve on the short sharp descent at Blackrock castle. Mile 2 - 5.40.

It's four, two and four on the road, not far from the half way point of the Cork marathon and this otherwise pleasant section of pathway is doing nothing for me only bringing back memories of a badly paced Marathon where I found myself in trouble on the same section of road. I took the decision to back off (or to put it another way blew my lights big time) and waited for the next runners to come from behind ........ and the next to go hard again. As an attempt at consoling myself I'm calling the rest of the race an interval session. Mile 3 - 6.07.

The bridge over the motorway is pretty steep in this condition but I think it's flat to the finish after that. struggled to another 6.07 mile along the old line. That's the price of a fast start but you have to have a go. Back onto the Marina past the almost extinct Pairc Ui Choimh and onto the last 0.24 miles down the tree lined centre park road, training ground of many of Cork's finest runner's and cyclist's, as predicted everyone's goosed, a mix of 5k and 10k runner's struggle to the line as the clock tell's the inevitable truth about the work that lies ahead.

Having become accustomed to running 5k's over the last year or two and getting used to timing my effort to the distance the extra 5k came as a bit of a shock and I might have underestimated it a bit. Still though, had a 5.58 min/mile average, recovered well after, got a nice coffee in town and felt good on Monday's run. Have to keep the bright side out ;-).

It's only in the day's after that you can come up with a proper analysis of why you ran the way you did, the dust settles and you use the new found knowledge to mix in with whatever else you thought you knew. This is a big benefit of racing, it's important to get the balance right at the same time. Too much and you get stale, too little and you lack the intensity and speed that a regular racer will have.

Next up's going to be a 10 miler or half marathon, hopefully Sunday morning has put some manner's on me and I give the next distance a bit more respect.



Friday, 11 July 2014


I'v been fighting a losing battle with my recent diagnosis. I thought it would never happen. Me, self confessed master of the laissez faire school of training & racing, less is more, don't kill yourself etc. Anyone that already suffer's will probably tell me I had it coming and who am I to argue, I think I knew too and like many never did anything about it.

I'm told Obsessive compulsive running disorder is a lot more common than I think, a lot more people suffer from it than would care to admit. It's still a taboo subject but it still doesn't come as much of a consolation. The confusion as I jump out of bed at 6.30am (for the tenth day in a row!) and run into the morning sunrise has become the norm and The six unloved can's I bought last week stare longingly from the fridge as I increasingly opt for the water.

What make's the onset even more strange or maybe may actually be the cause, is the fact I'v only raced five times this year with three of these in January. Absence make's the heart grow fonder. The hunger has been growing under the skin. After a sluggish few month's where I couldn't get out of my own way I stopped trying to run fast and slowed it right down, got a pair of trainer's and the mileage crept up over the norm. At this stage it was too late, I didn't realise it but OCRD had already taken hold.

I came across a typical timeline on 'The Medical Mail' last week while struggling to come to term's with it.
The patient possibly
- Started running year's ago as a mean's of keeping fit during the off season for some other more loved sport, say cycling for example and 'hated' every minute of the six miles a week thro'out November. (Gave up on it in December)
- Went through a phase of 'standard run of the mill dislike' but carried on with it as a mean's of survival during a sporadic encounter with triathlon.
- Came to 'tolerate it' after discovering there were only three minutes lost to the fastest run split toward's the end of the his latest triathlon outing.
- Started 'liking it' after coming close to the thirty minute mark for five miles and comparing the varying standard of apre race tea and cakes between race's.
- Finally, chronic OCrD present's itself in the form of 'Loving it'. Clear and present challenge's pop up from time to time and resistance is futile.
So it's out of my control and I just have to roll with it. Ah well.

Being part of the organising committee at the Streets of Fermoy 5k series, a handy return to competition at the Coolagown 5K and the acuisiton by Grange-Fermoy AC of a pretty talented Moldovan to give us a few pointers have only served to compound my illness, to remedy it I'v entered my first 10k in four year's. The Fit mag 10K is on Sunday around the Marina and Blackrock area of Cork, I think there's a few lump's in it with a flat/downhill run into a pretty cool looking tree lined finishing tunnel. It'll serve as a bit of a sneak preview of a new 10 miler scheduled for September around the same road's and the Charleville half marathon in the middle of September...............

Surely they'll have come up with a cure by then.

If any readers are affected by the issues in this post go to a race and find comfort in the presence of your comrades.

Take care



Monday, 27 January 2014

Well, what would John Treacy do?

Coming through the other side of Christmas and into the new year with pretty good leg's (b.m.s) I went to Little Island last Sunday just east of Cork city to test myself at the Cork bhaa four miler, doesn't sound much but four mile's is plenty long enough to find out what kind of form your in after a three month break from racing. After forgetting the garmin I had to enquire as to what sort of pace we were doing at the half way point, this was enough to crack my shoulder companion (which wasn't my intention ..... honest) and after informing me we were running at 5.50 mile pace I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I was going, this time last year I struggled to maintain 6.10 pace for the same distance. A quick cup of tea, a few bun's and off home, happy to be taking my new found knowledge into the first big road race of the year, The John Treacy Dungarvan 10 mile on the following Sunday.

A far from ideal run up to the weekend had me happy enough not to expect too much on Sunday for a number of reason's, the main one being I have never ran well here and have alway's used it as a race to clear out the cobweb's and try to move up a gear from here on in toward's the rest of the season. At 10 mile's it's a bit of a stretch, although I'v eight 12/13 mile training runs in the leg's since the middle of November I still feel like I should have more at that distance to finish strongly.

Warming up with John (not Treacy) I was happy to find I still had last week's leg's on, cruising in the bright winter sunshine I had reason to believe that I might be on another good day, a vote of confidence from my shoulder buddy confirmed it, and like my last 10 miler in Mallow last March I decided to go out the road 6min. miling.

An unfortunately timed funeral procession delayed us just enough to be positioned perfectly under an impressive black thundercloud that dumped it's content's on the 1600 singlet clad runner's, nullifying any benefit that was gained from a warm up 15 min. earlier. Still, much happier here than as part of the funeral procession.

By the time we were going through the first mile marker it was a deluge, the heavy rain had formed deep pool's on both side's of the road connected by fast flowing stream's of ice cold water. Memories of what it's like to race a bike in these condition's was some consolation and going into mile two I was really enjoying it,  heavy hail being driven by 45 mph gust's from the left must have had some wondering what they were doing out here at all, but today my good leg's were having a major positive effect on my mindset.  For those with thought's of jacking it in, and we've all been there, today must have been difficult. I mean, what would John Treacy do? what would John Treacy think if a bit of sub zero hailstone was the deciding factor in any one runner calling it a day? I shudder to think. I know what he'd do. He'd nail it, he'd dish it out like there's no tomorrow, and he'd love every minute of it. He'd revel in it , his heart would sink with a break in the cloud's, the tougher the better, that's what he'd like. So, if you were to jack it in today, just don't let him see ya.

The elite's going through the first mile squinting through the downpour  (pic. courtesy Cork running blogspot)

So I'm there, cruising through mile three, mile four, through mile five at 29.45 in familiar company with sometime training partner's Mike and John from St. Catherine's and I'm totally in control with the most exposed part of the course almost behind us, around the hairpin and it's bye bye to the headwind. What would John Treacy do? he'd nail it right now, he'd do it to test his rival's, soften them up. I'm not J.T though, I'll sit tight, 10 mile's is 10 mile's and I'v still to pull off an hour at 10mph. I have to contain myself, I'm not home yet.

Mile 6 and I get a sting thro' the outside of both thigh's and it's not going away, as the meter's pass it's starting to take over all of my thought's and I'm having to reset the default setting's as the alarm bell's start to ring, this is not good. How can you go from being so comfortable to almost deranged in the space of four/five minutes. On another day I could possibly deal with it better but now I think I'm paying the price for the laid back attitude I brought to the race this morning. If I was more 'up for it' I'd have been ready for the influx of lactate and would have been ready to deal with it accordingly, I was so comfortable early on I had forgotten about the inevitable. What would JT do, he'd run through it of course, he'd look around him, feel the pain and soak it up, soak it up just that 1% more than his rival's until he'd cracked them.

I cracked with two and a half to go, mentally first as alway's. It's the head that decide's what too much pain is on any given day. the leg's concur. Massive dissapointment for a few second's, pull yourself together, go again, to my surprise I manage to get going again which lead's me to thinking I shouldn't have cracked in the first place. "FFS what was that about, there they go up onto the main road". Torrent's of personal verbal abuse ensue and the last two mile's are ran in desperation and hope, maybe the pacer is running with a lot to spare. Downhill with a tailwind for the last mile, maybe I'll make it up? I didn't look at the watch, just ran. 60.10 when the clock came into view, 60.43 crossing the line. A lot faster than what I'd thought coming down in the van, but the manner at how it came about?  Somewhere between bemused and amused it's a good start to the year and the sense of relief on crossing the line after an effort like that is worth a million dollar's.

50mtrs to go, the sufferfest is almost at an end and the winter cobwebs are a thing of the past
(pic. courtesy Dave Colman - DC Images

What would JT do? he'd give himself a good talking to, that's what he'd do.



Thursday, 16 January 2014

It's not about the bike

Scene 1

- Enter myself. Lacing up my shoes, tired and dishevelled. Still trying to wind it up after a laid back Christmas. The skies are heavy with rain and I'm somewhere between 'not giving a rat's ass' and 'I better do a bit' with two week's to my first race.
- Enter the coach. Lacing up his shoes, Motivated and eager, annoyingly so. They're not all like this. Just my one, that's how he does it. He used to cycle, now he run's. Just like me.

- Yawn's a  "Hi"
- "Hey man, your a bit sluggish? not to worry, there's a long year there."
- "Ah ya, I'l be grand"
- "Pfffft, you'll be grand! what have you been at since October?"
- "I'v been tipping away, *u*k you very much, matter of fact I'm quite chuffed with myself, you got me on a bad day."
- "Ha, your getting old I suppose. You probably need to up your game a bit. You might get in some sort of shape for April and May if you start getting a bit specific now. The impending trip to the Dungarvan 10 for your annual hiding is just around the corner, good to see your in the right form to keep up the tradition."
Coach get's dirty look.
- "What tradition?"
I get a confused one back, confused because he can't figure out why I don't know what he's talking about.
- "Go out too fast, lock up with lactate and hang on for dear life for the last 8 miles only to end up coming in a minute slower than your last attempt"...............
-"nyyeah, well, I'll probably go out handy this time"
-"If you got yourself fit you could go out fast and and hold it to the finish"
-"Don't worry, there's a long year there, Either way, It'll (Dungarvan 10) clear out the cobweb's and get the race head in gear."

Conversation fade's to make way for one of the many hill's on the route. A few lap's on a local trail. The rain's coming down heavy from a thick bank of fog clinging to the top's of the surrounding trees and the stream that split's the loop down the middle is swollen and brown. If I came on my own I'd be in heaven, but I'v got to entertain this guy. Glad to say we're on a par as I start to find my feet.

-"I can go uphill just like you"
- panting "that's promising, but I'm no mountain goat"
-"not today anyway"
-"If you've got it don't be afraid to test me"
-"Your grand, I'm enjoying this pace, today is all about the intrinsic benefit's of getting out for a run and all the benefit's that go with it. Ya know, endorphin's an all that"
-"WTF, is that really you I'm listening to? a f***in philosopher now. You must have been out last night or else your getting soft."

Conversation's die and we get comfortable in the silence. A heightened awareness of our surround's put's the small talk to bed. It's irrelevant. The rain get's heavier, the tree's get greener, eleven miles done, I could stay out here all day like this but there's stuff to be done. The deep green's and brown's make way for the drab grey's of tarmac, concrete and raincloud's on the last two mile's into town.

Whatever happen's in the meantime , come Sunday we'll get up and do it again.