Well you all creeped me out with your comments to my last post, how am supposed to run along the canal without fear of being shot by some misplaced American gunslinger or tumbling into floaters of dubious origin? I’d planned another running commute yesterday and even went as far as packing my running clobber and endured the horrendous public transport ordeal, only to find at the end of the day that I had forgotten the Enell contraption, otherwise known as the shoulder boulder holder. No running without that I’m afraid.
Of course you know me well enough by now – I love this running malarky so much there’s no holding me back. I’d even sacrifice a friday evening of partying (for partying, read evening watching Gardeners World) for a trog along a deserted canal and a rendezvous in a terrifying canalside dock. I was deeply absorbed by the thrilling audiobook playing on the iPod when I took this snap. I was in the middle of a WWII bombing raid over West London when two cyclists bore down on me, yelling for me to get out of the way. For the second time in a week I had to throw myself to the ground to avoid a premature bath.
Apart from that little adrenalin rush, the rest of the run was rather peaceful. I left work later than usual because we are in the middle of the most exciting month end of the year if accounts can ever be described in those terms. The canal was deserted apart from some frisky bunnies and a convoy of Herons working their way down the waterway. I wasn’t quick enough to catch the clumsy birds dragging their lanky legs behind them so instead you get a photo of these pretty little plants.
They may be pretty in a prehistoric sense but I have a feeling that they may be specimens of the evil horsetail. I will therefore have to take my body, shoes and clothing through a decontamination zone before I set foot on the allotment. Wouldn’t want to transport it.
Good luck to any nutters plodding round the London marathon on Sunday!