Yesterday was one of those days. By 5pm, I had peered under rocks, peeled the lids off several cans of worms and opened Pandora’s box, and I still had a 2 hour run to fit in (deferred from Sunday, when a hard day of spectating had left me good for nothing more than a kip on the sofa).
I had it all planned. I would drive to the Reigate Hill car park, get changed in the loos there and then run out and back along the North Downs Way before the light faded.
But then the universe started giving me hints*.
Hint 1: rush hour traffic – I was significantly later getting to the car park than I’d anticipated.
Hint 2: closed toilets – cue trying to change in the car without contravening public decency laws (damn you, sports bra designers, damn you all to hell).
Hint 3: disassembled hydration pack – cue ten minutes of trying to force the plastic tubing into the cloth sheath
Hint 4: Garmin having a spat with the satellites – and taking what felt like hours to find a signal.
At which point I was nearly ready to give up and go home.
But I didn’t*, and I had one of the most enjoyable runs I’ve had for a long time.
Maybe the universe was just testing my resolve*.
*The universe is not sentient and does not revolve around me. The universe is not sentient and does not revolve around me. The universe is not sentient and does not revolve around me… [repeat ad infinitum]