The Diary of a Demented Man.

Part 3.

Bangor, Friday, 10th March, 2006, 17:30
Just off for a quick dash around the short course. Mild calm evening, clean kit, (Mrs Tok does look after me so well, bless her wee tight fisted Scottish heart). Why is Wee Kimble applying aftershave and hair gel, I wonder? Has his fame spread! Perhaps the folks at the old people’s home will throw petals in our path as we dash by…..notice I used “we” and “dash” in the same sentence - this is getting more like the Ballyholme two step with every passing day.
Elder daughter shows mild interest in the proceedings. “Are you going for a run, Dad?” she enquires with morbid curiosity. Better known as the “Food Police” in the family circle, she obviously approves of this latest “Aerobic fad of father’s”. Peering closely at me, as if I were in her clinic, she mutters “you do look a little thinner but your skin is still very dull!”
(Well, I mean, it’s not exactly Santa Monica Boardwalk out there you know!)

Bangor, Saturday, 11th March, 2006, 12:30
The route of death has been further extended and now includes a number of modest gradients. In the immortal words of Oates, “I may be gone some time.” Pre-run check…watch, Factor 16, lip balm, water bottle, sun glasses…..
The good thing about running during the day is that it is warmer. The bad thing is having to endure the disbelieving stares of the passers by. “Please hurry up Dad”, moans the Roller Derby King, “you’re bad for my street cred”. I notice that he has now taken to running backwards, and pauses at intervals for me to catch up. “Watch where you’re going,” I gasp between lungfuls of salty sea air. “You watch where you’re going”, is the intellectual retort. Out of the mouths of babes and…..

Bangor, Sunday, 12th March, 2006
Did I tell you I live in a mini police statlet? Well, you’ll have heard about the Food Police, but then there’s Mrs Tok, aka the Thought Police; Wee Kimble, aka the Music Police; and of course, younger daughter, temporarily exiled in Edinburgh, aka the Style Police. Can you imagine how I feel at family reunions?
You know, I am beginning to understand why Forest Gump just ran, and ran, and ran……

Belfast, Monday, 13th March, 2006, 18:30
Supporter Club Committee meeting tonight! A different sort of running. I would love to tell you what we discussed but, well…..I reckon we could teach the Masonic Order a thing or two!
Bangor, Tuesday, 14th March, 2006, 18:30
Late home from work I discover that the Thought Police has cooked a delightful dish and invited the Food Police and her fiancé, (financial sponsor) for dinner. Explaining that I am not stopping but am off for a wee run, I get mild approval. “See you all later”, I shout, as I head out to battle the elements.
“It’s raining, it’s pouring, the Message Board is boring.” The teen heart throb is unable to accompany me tonight, again!
There is something soothing about running in the rain. Approaching Hamburger Hill for the first time, (yes, the first time), I realise that I feel good about life, the universe and everything. A strange notion of running two laps starts to cross my mind. Just take it a street at a time, I remind myself – don’t get carried away. After two miles I decide that I am in the groove, I’m going for it. Hamburger Hill in the rain – no sweat! (Well actually....lots; and the old knees are creaking a bit).
Heading for home I resist the strong temptation to take a short cut. I have been on the road for over forty minutes now and wonder if any of my close relatives have filed a missing persons report. On stumbling over the door mat, watch in hand, ready to announce that yet another unremarkable record has been smashed to oblivion, I am disappointed to realise they have all gone. No, not out on a search party – they have just gone. My delightful dinner remains as a solitary dish at the end of the kitchen table. I shall deal with it presently, on my own.

Bangor, Thursday, 16th March, 2006, 18:00
Not good, not at all good. Decided to visit The Dirty Duck for a pre St Paddy’s Day lunch and discovered that celebratory meals are not compatible with marathon training. Made an excuse and ran the truncated short course, slowly. Must do better tomorrow.

Bangor, Friday, 17th March, 2006, 18:00
Happy holidays! Spring cleaned a corner of the kitchen and cooked dinner, all in pursuit of sufficient brownie points for tomorrow’s Six Nations rugby fest. The Style Police plus the boyfriend (from Armagh) are back in town for a family reunion, so it will be a full dress parade for all Police affiliates tonight. Wee Kimble finds the draw of Neighbours too much so I am allowed out on my own, again. One lap or two, one lap or two, nah, one lap will do – I don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of the celebrations later. On reflection, what started out as a week of achievement has deteriorated into a weak achievement. The Ballyholme three step, I shall now call it – two forward and one back.

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