Gizmos

Should be confined to 80's movies.

Can't get me head around my shoes talking to me or listening to pumped f f f fresh beats remixed by Groove Jaxx while I run, so I don't. Just me, me ascics gelly babies and the elements. Which brings it's own set of joys.

I get lots of time to think about what I should have done in the house and need to do when I get back. I dream up crazy ideas for work and even subject them to the little dears from time to time. I try not to look smug at the (what's the P.C. phrase for lazy fat gets?) weeble type blokes smokin' a faaaaaag outside the pub (who look at me like I should be shot before their partners see me and subject them to........). I think about my family here and in Jersey, how the little chap has survived his scare and the inspiration that provides. I think about my friends, like how much faster the Greek would be going, or how many times I would have lapped __________ (fill in your own!) and the sheer effort that some are going through just to complete the damn thing in one piece, which again keeps me going.

You could say I think too much, and you'd be right, but I have found the road to be a peaceful place where I appreciate a lot of things, a lot more.

Keep going folks because it's going to be amazing at the finish line.