A Bad Hair Day
I flew to Paradise for a run of gold
I've been in my mind, it's such a fine line
That keeps me searching for a run of gold
And I'm getting old.
So... I couldn't even eke out an M50 PB. The hill in the final kilometre quashed that last-minute idea. On the day, I was simply bad — Anton Chigurh on a bad hair day. That bad.
I'm not sure what went wrong. I raced hard from the start, but I wasn't generating any speed. My first kilometre was 4:14 net — quick enough, but by 5k (22:11), I was behind schedule and just got slower. The encouragement of Em and others lifted my spirits, but not my speed.
I finished dazed and tired — just like in 1995, but also confused. Perhaps I'd caught a bug. From Plu maybe, or Katy? Or CJ, or Strewth? It would be rude to blame friends, so I'll choose our starry-tattooed young waitress from Saturday lunch. She did get rather close when leaning over to place the second round of coffees on the table.