After a Saturday night of Falstaffian debauchery (or a glass of wine and an industrial-sized portion of spag. bol.) Team Overall were set for a 13.1 mile perambulation of the Warwickshire countryside at the Shakespeare Half Marathon.
Our plan was simple; we'd set off hard and see how far we got before it turned ugly.
It wasn't so bad for the first few miles; 'Argrrrrrrrgh!'ing at the crowd, startling other runners who had their names on their backs, enjoying the sunshine; it was our sunshine, our only sunshine.
Then at eight miles it turned ugly. Uglier than Betty. Uglier than Kid Joe. Whatever happened to Mr Hamster? He got a side stitch that made his ears burn.
Mr ATOM was faring little better, having lingered too long at the junction of Postviral and Undertraining...
We considered a pause to watch our Rome burn...
...but you can blag a half marathon, so we did, jogging in in 1:53:shrapnel. Not as we like it, but all's well that ends well.
Before Stonehenge there was Woodhenge and Strawhenge. 200 miles in this day and age? I don't even know where I live now...
The other A-H
Except that since the race...
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