I did my twelfth parkrun this morning at my eleventh different venue. Which wasn’t Banstead or Black Park or Frimley but Reading. A solid rather than noteworthy time, but still faster than anything I manage during the week.
Reading itself is great. Once you get over the slightly disconcerting parking arrangements (parking on a dual carriageway just isn’t right!) the run itself is everything you’d hope for: friendly, clearly marshalled and well organised. And to cap it all off, the first and last bits are along the river, filled with boat after boat of eye candy from the nearby rowing club. Which might go some way to explaining my time
Today’s parkrun completes the running aspect of my two March goals. As for the other – I may not have done as much decluttering as I had planned, but there is nothing in my unopened post pile, more carpet on display than there was and not a suitcase in sight.