Resisting The Temptation

On the bus today but there's no gossip to report. Gobby girl, who supplies it all, seems to have lost her friend, which is perhaps hardly surprising. To compensate she seems to have bought herself an Ipod and she’s been quiet as a mouse ever since. Perhaps she can no longer hear her phone when it rings.

The bus driver was a pain though, the A52 didn't seem any worse than usual but he took it upon himself to detour down Raynesway and through Alvaston. Of course, and I've said this before, this tactic never works. Just don't do it. Consequently I was late for work.

Interesting stuff in the papers. I've always sneered at Daughters Guides sessions and it seems, apparently with good cause. According to a survey by Girlguiding UK, girls are fed up with Guides too. They want to learn about more relevant stuff than baking fairy cakes and learning how to be bitchy to each other. One of the things they were demanding was sessions on how to practice safe sex, 4th place on the list in fact. They'll probably want a badge for it too. How standards have slipped, in the old days the Boy Scouts used to show them the ropes. Now the boys are probably too busy on their playstations.

Mind you top of the list was managing money and assembling flat pack furniture came 8th. So it's not all excitement.

L emails, fresh from the gym again. She'll be such a bouncing fit bunny; I just hope she kept off the leg press today. She been in contact with Daughter by email. Daughter enquires whether L's mood is 'Bright and Beautiful' or 'Moody and Manky'. How well put, she obviously in tune with her own moods, or at least one of them.

L says she's currently in the former category but it could all deteriorate to the latter by this evening. Sounds like a job for alcohol. Hopefully she'll be somewhere in between. 'Beautiful and Moody' is such a sexy combination.

Talking of Daughter, she's been listening to the Editors, 'Smoke outside the summit or other'. Good lyrics are wasted on that girl.

I get home and yet again I am pinning a number to my shirt and heading out for an event. Where will it all end?

I have another foe to fight tonight. I'm sporting the biggest loads of bites you've ever seen, midge bites that is, not anything more pleasurable. I have a feeling they could get worse tonight. The run is down by the river on the Embankment. The midges are sure to be out to get me.

Doggo and I drive down, L is meeting us there. Doggo helps me warm up, him and his ball. Then I shut him in the car and head to the start.

No bravado tonight, I start three rows back, I mustn't let the young whippersnappers drag me towards exhaustion and a pace I can't keep up. I see the Girl With The Unnecessary Ponytail, just the one tonight. I consider using her to pace me round.

We start, it's an odd sensation without Doggo's vocal support. I resist the temptation to tag on behind two girls in very sparse outfits and pigtails. They could be almost twins. I keep to my own pace. I wave at Doggo as I pass the car; he's not looking. I think he's ignoring me. A guy dressed as though he's come straight from work, judging by the totally unsuitable trousers that he has on, goes past me. I resist the temptation. I keep to my own pace. He soon flags, he's gone off too soon and he's history. We pass the first mile marker. The Girl With The Unnecessary Ponytail goes past me, she's annoyingly always a slow starter but I resist the temptation. I keep to my own pace.

The route is on nice flat tarmac most of the way, although littered with pot holes, apart from one strange bit where rather than go round the edge of the field on the tarmac they cut across the grass. This involves running down one bank and up another. This seems an unnecessary chore to me and as I descend down the bank my car key, which I have stashed down my lycra, moves around and digs me in the balls. Ouch. I have to dig around in said lycra to rearrange things.

I get myself into a nice little group, I like the pace they are running at, so I allow them to tow me round. Only problem is every time we take a tight turn of which there are several, they all jockey for position and surge forwards. Bloody annoying but I keep to my own pace and eventually rejoin them. What do they think this is? A serious race!

At the end of lap two I have the same problem with the downhill bit and have to indulge in more rearranging. I pass the car for a second time; Doggo is still ignoring me. I think he looks a tad pissed off. No sign of L, she must be delayed at work.

A not terribly fit looking chap with shaved head and tattoos down all four limbs passes me around the three-mile point. Finally I crack, I can't resist the temptation. I tag on behind him, he's not getting away with that. Even worse there's another girl 30m in front wearing surgical stockings like Paula Radcliffe wears. Obviously she’s worried about deep vein thrombosis. I'd like to have her before the finish but I'm not sure it's feasible, well not in this life.

I pass the car for a third and final time. Still no acknowledgment from Doggo and still no L. I wonder whether it's safe to drop out now, she'd never know that I didn't complete it but I don't, I've got still got Tattoo boy to burn off. Then I see L and it's too late to hide behind a tree.

As it happens Tattoo boy burns me off, he ups the pace at about the same time as I do. Together we pass around half a dozen people on the run in but I can't pass him. Nor can I catch Paula’s friend, those stockings obviously give her an advantage. Don’t think they’d suit me though. I cross the line and someone offers me a special event t-shirt. 'Top 105 in the Notts 5', seems I wasn't last then. L will be so jealous. I collapse on the grass because some bright spark has put the drinks up on top of the banking. Do they seriously expect me to crawl up there in my state? I lie on the grass trying to smile at everyone hoping someone will take pity on me and feed me some water.

Eventually L arrives at the finish, so now I can stand up because I can lean on her. I give her a snog, hoping she won't notice I'm using her to hold me up. She's pissed off at my t-shirt but she still holds me up. She's a treasure; she must love me. Eventually I feel strong enough to hobble up the hill to get a drink. My body doesn't seem to agree that I've taken it easy.

Results are soon up. 57th in 32.08. I bump into a former work colleague. He's immediately jealous of my t-shirt. Obviously not in the top 105 then. He tells me his time was 35 minutes, practically walking pace.

Go home and somehow manage to stay AF. L cooks up corned beef hash.

In the Tour de France, Rasmussen wins the final mountain stage and his lead is now big enough to ensure him victory even if he rides badly in Saturday's time trail.