Trail running 35:00 [3] 4.0 mi (8:45 / mi)
I've sewn myself back into my cloak of respectability again. I am a grown adult that acts responsibility at all times. I can hold mother / son debates of whether the word 'dick' is ruder than the word 'cock' (we were walking past where Hoddy's flat is at the time. This is the sort of question Hoddy would love to answer, and would do a much finer job of it than I did) and whether is was true that c*** was rude as he thought it meant going on a car hunt, like when you were looking to buy a car, which he imagines must be even worse than curtain shopping, so he can appreciate the frustration and anger associated with the word. It doesn't mean car hunt Laurence, and is probably best not mentioned again. At all. Ever. I thought I was doing quite well with my explanations, considering my fragile state, but I sort of gave up when he found a tampon later and wanted to know what it was for. It's a make-up thing Laurence...
It was the HBT handicap today. I wasn't going to run it, cause the beer drinking clearly doesn't fit in with the new me, but Calum wanted to run it, so Laurence did too, and I ran with him cause he doesn't like the dogs. We managed the first loop, just over 2miles (St Margaret's Loch up Castro and back via the bog and round haggis knowe), which is ok for him. Lemonade downed by the kids, not beer, which is much trickier. I skipped the AGM and took the kids to the rival AGM at Don's, where all the mummies with kids were hanging out. Orienteers are infiltrating the brown movement. Sarah o'n is the new trotter captain, and Peter FG is subservient sex captain. Running around while the kids were cycling added to the mileage. Calf very not happy:-(