And so it came to pass, after the survivors of the expedition into the mists had dispersed, that three of them journeyed south, in the company of a lady, and the lady was Karen, and she went forth into the wilderness of the forest at Salt Ayre, and returned, bringing with her bottles of ale, with the caps removed. It was a mystery to the travellers how she had accomplished this, and they were filled with awe, and Stella Artois at 5.4% proof!
Anyway, that's enough of the biblical style, on now to the more usual 'moaning Yorkshire Git' style.
This was another short race in Lancaster, but, so far, we believe it was a short race, as short as it should have been, and no longer either. I met John, Karen and Kevin at Eamont Bridge and we cruised to Lancaster in a Merc with blacked out windows, it was like the Reservoir Dogs looking for trouble, and we got it as soon as the starter said 'GO'.
A good flat course saw PB's for John Kevin and Karen, and a time no slower, or faster, than I expected for me. I have learned however, that my Gazza like refuelling prior to the race, comprising a late pub lunch of sausage, mash, peas & onion gravy, all washed down with a couple of pints of Theakstons best bitter was probably not the best preparation - I'm cutting out the peas next time!
Everyone was pleased with their efforts, and I have to say that Karen and John were savouring the thought of giving the 'Marshallmeister' a run for his money when he returns.
The dodgy refuelling continued after the race, but, really what else can you expect when the prizes were a bottle of strong lager AND a commemorative mug to drink it from! We're elite runners for heavens sake, what is the point of providing strong lager at the end of the race, is it to confuse us about the distance ? That second mile marker did seem to come up early, but it seemed a long way from there back to the finish..........................
And finally, the bit at the start about Karens bottle opening skills remains a mystery............