I am not brilliant but I run to try and keep in shape. I try to do 5Km three times a week. No more. I am not interested in doing marathons or even half marathons. I don’t have the time or the interest.

 I had been quite looking forward to this evening’s run after work
as the day started sunny and I was at my desk all day. As the day wore on the
sunshine dulled and the stress of work started to pull on me I felt less and
less like running and more like napping but come six o’clock I got changed and
forced myself out.

I was not in the best frame of mind. I was still dealing with things in my head as I locked the door and headed down the hill. I was sure that my mind would clear as I hit the canal path. I am so lucky to live close to a canal basin and the canal path soon gets me clear of the town.

Obstacle 1 hit when I came up over the first canal bridge; a pack of excitable cubs were coming the opposite way, being shepherded along by their keepers. All the adults had their eyes down herding the kids and the kids were looking everywhere, everywhere but ahead and at me. I had to be as nimble as a gazelle as I leapt and swerved through the little green clad chappies. I left them behind and headed on.

Just over a kilometre in and I passed a small group of teens when one of the boys decided he would look big and clever to the girls by jumping towards me whilst shouting. I ignored him. I kept on. For some reason it was a hard run tonight and my legs were already aching. 

At the 2Km mark I met 2 geese. They were on the path and spitting. I side stepped them and jogged on to the turnaround point. This meant I had to encounter them again in a few minutes and they were no happier when I did.

It was as I turned around and started back that I realised I had lost my door key. Yes. I had locked the house and now I didn’t have a key. By this time I had decided that if I encountered the annoying teen he may well be going for a swim. It was one of those days.

I ran back, retracing my steps, looking for my key. No joy. I live in the middle of a terrace but the backs look onto fields. I keep a spare key hidden in my back garden, in a bird box (not after this I don’t obviously). 

I walked back down to where I could enter the fields to the back of the house. That meant climbing a barbed wire fence and getting stung by nettles.


The back field is home to bulls so I had to be brave and shoo them away, run up the field and then climb the barbed wire fence around my garden. I felt momentarily relieved when I was in my garden. Only momentarily as I then noticed my birdhouse was gone. 

Luckily I found it between the garden fences. It must have blown down in the winter. I picked it up, opened it and took out my key. Now I am not daft. I don’t keep my backdoor key in the back garden. No that would be too easy. It is my front door key. So, in order to get home and finish my run:

Barbed wire fence!
Barbed wire fence!

Down the field.
Up the hill and in the front door.

What a crap run.

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