Since being pipped at the post at the recent Gibside race (see last entry) I've been trying to get out more in the morning. In truth, its not just a reaction to defeat but also to avoid spending endless dark nights running around the town. True, we've now got a spanking new track up at the local high school, but running 20 laps around lane two can get quite monotonous. Yesterday mornings exercise was a 12 mile purge through the lanes, but today I get a lie-in and will aim for eight to ten miles later this afternoon.
Halloween was quiet last night. Wannabee coach to the stars and slug whisperer, Aunt Aggie, said we had had two visitors when I had been out shopping. As she didn't have any sweeties, she apparently hid under the stairs. I found her still there fingering an old copy of Tractor Weekly wearing a headtorch when I returned. There was only one more little group later in the evening who had an average age of 4 and were mightily excited about wandering around the streets. A sweetie fest. So we have a bowl full of zingy sugar coated sweeties and individually wrapped fruitellas, but this morning I found Aggie has been helping herself to the bowl with the evidence discarded around the kitchen.
As I made coffee first thing, I asked her what she thought my next event should be. As she sat with hairnet on and plasticine effigy in hand (not sure who she's working her Northumbrian voodoo on today?) she tried to form an answer, but a mouthful of chewy sweets conspired against her and her choppers fell out onto the table. That shut her up.
Before 'teethgate', I thought I heard her mumble Brampton-Carlisle. That would be good but I'm also in the mood for a trail or fell race and a bit of cross country. Best to do these races before the health and safety police ban them. Clay Bank West on the 10th is a cert. Then there's the cyclo cross. Choices...Choices. I'll have a trawl through the calendar and see what's occurring.