I frequently watch TV nestled in an atmosphere of apathy. Sometimes this spills into mild psychosis if I'm really bored or the programme turgid. When I think about it, there's not been many times when I've stood in the middle of the lounge with my cowbells clanking, shouting at the glass screen (at least not since I stopped getting Eurosport).
Adverts are treated with disdain. I casually comment on the nonsense they often pedal to get their message across. Aunt Aggie now believes there are indeed five phases of fartlek, four signs of fatigue, seven symptoms of ageing, that meercats can talk and that every shampoo has a secret or unique ingredient.
Languishing around with a heavy cold for the last week I've watched too much telly so when I ventured out and managed 5 miles last night, the cabin fever began to fall away. Team orders were promptly issued to enter the 'Trimpell 20' race. The fastest 20m race in the country apparently, but that assumes you're fit and can run fast. It's sponsored by Pete Bland, so I might be able to cash in my 2009 vouchers if he's got a stand there. I did enjoy my last 20 miler, the Edinburgh to North Berwick last year. Well. enjoyed it up to the 15 mile point when I became dehydrated and fell off the back of the group I was in. I've since got a marathon under my belt so I'm a bit wiser in terms of endurance.
The legs seem fine now but everything's a bit weedy from inactivity. As I lift my head to cough and splutter and swill the yellow remnants of my 'cold remedy drink' in my mug, I catch the shadow of the April marathon behemoth heaving itself over the far horizon and it occurs to me that I better get my 's#*t wired' (as they said last night in Starship Troopers 3) and get some miles in toute suite.