Clive Cookson 10k

It was like taking the kids to the seaside. Having decided late on that I would nip doon tha coast  to run the Clive Cookson 10k at Monkseaton, I reached for the kit drawer under the bed and pulled the drawer out. The club top and shorts were at the front and positively jumped out. You could hear them shouting 'me, me, me..'.  I pulled on the vest and caught myself in the mirror. 'Mmmm, carrying pound or two extra. No matter', I thought, 'might do me good to haul the supplementary 'fatage' round this flat two lapper'.  Does that make me a flapper?


There was a good crowd gathering as we signed up inside the new lego school, a great example of a post-modern donut. No doubt it's won a prize.

It was cool and there was a breeze that kicked up as black clouds built and built.  It was soon time for the off.  I moved on and out with 300 others, keeping myself well out of the jostling. Staying out of trouble, I clipped along at a uneventful pace across the gravel track and then down the main road along with two or three others as we came to the end of the first lap. There was still another 5k to go. I tried to maintain focus but struggled a little through the housing estate and watched the little group split and move ahead at the 7k mark. Trying to keep some technique, I slowed and watched 4 come past in the last 2k but held it together across the line.

Not wearing a watch and without my Garmin. I reckoned it was a late 36 minutes which in my book (and mildly bloated state) was a cause for celebration. I duly celebrated with what is described as a 'dry boak'...the stomachs way of saying 'wtf just happened...'.

At least it had stayed mostly dry. Had a quick warm down but didn't wait for the presentation. On the drive home the temperature was around five degrees and the heavens opened. Cracking summer weather, eh? A trip to the seaside? Don't make me laugh.....