AKA The last race of the year. This would be the 17th race of the year, according to Strava (I think I’ve tagged them all correctly). I failed to start my watch at the crucial moment, but N says we were 1:25:59 ish…and two of the miles were sub 8-minuters (admittedly, downhill). Of course, there were uphills involved as well! 150 feet in not a lot of distance. My aim for that is generally to “not walk”. Most of the time I achieve it.
It felt far too easy for two days after Christmas, a lousy night’s sleep, and drizzle. Much easier than last year – not slippery with ice for starters. Not recovering from a cold. Had slept in my own bed, rather than the tiny one at my parents’.
Afterwards, we had coffee with Jo&J&J (smallest J is just over a year old, very intelligent, knows his mind, and Jo is firm with him. We do not have banging our sippy cup on the table, thank you very much). Mum played “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear” despite being warned that it is possible to tickle him too much and then he’s sick.
Then there was roast beef and yorkshire pudding at my parents’. With gravy. Thick gravy. It’s taken Mum 30-ahem years to realise that I prefer thick gravy. And now she will throw cornflour at a small portion of gravy for me. Utter bliss. N ate his annual sprout, said that it was up there with last year’s annual sprout, and definitely an improvement on the sprouts of his childhood.
I am now shattered. The burglar alarm has decided to stop working, as it can’t find the sensor in the garage (randomly). There are still boxes all over the house. I ought to build a bookcase and fill it.
I’m actually going to take a night off. I may even knit…