David J Foster Runs

Apart from when Nick tried to kiss a bull… it quite sensibly ran off!

I should mention that last night he recounted a tale of being flung, wearing only shorts, into a large nettle patch when he was young… ugh!

Kim & Nat sat under the patio heater all night as the party goers ebbed and flowed to them, while the boys took up residence in the kitchen doing much the same, albeit much nearer to the pavlova, strawberry cheesecake and chocolate tart.

The real moment of glory was not that I reached the top first, but that his heart (-rate monitor) finally cracked under the pressure and emitted a solitary beep-beep-beep-beep, before he gagged it with a deft right-hander.

From the Beacon I ran to Jack & Jill where I careered down the hill to Clayton, trying to emulate Richard Askwith’s fell running style without breaking anything!

My runners were already muddy so I just waded in, emerging at the other end to the sound of squelchsteps, which stayed with me for the next mile or so!

I’m finding it hard to get out of bed at the moment. It’s like my head is full of iron… and my pillow has a magnet in it.