Running with a friend

In which I do four runs in one day (and everything goes wrong)

Today I completed four runs.

  1. I took a child to a Parkrun, where he felt too ill to run, so we walked together. 5km of discomfort for him and a dose of parent guilt for me.
  2. I took another child swimming and our lift home was delayed: a 2km scamper in my vest, flesh withering in the February gales, and my child (wearing my jumper) on my back.
  3. A dog run: 5km involving a squirrel and a pulled muscle.
  4. Finally, I parked my car and the meter ate my money without giving me a ticket. Cue a 400m gallop to town and back.

Days like these.

I’ve started to daydream about meeting a friend, running for a few miles — enjoying the leg burn and the lovely view — then maybe downing a pint in a pub, eating a pie, and going home to read the papers.

Or perhaps just running together. Friendship. Simple warmth.

There’s something refreshingly simple about dreaming of a┬árun

in which

we just run.


Life: doesn’t always go to plan

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