Little effin shits*

NB: Mum, before you get worried, I am the only protagonist in this tale over the age of about 13.....

OK. It's Tuesday. Work went well today, haven't been on a run in a while, day two of 'back on the patches' so my lungs are clearer than any time since....last Friday, 4.5 weeks to go til the big day - time to pound some asphalt.

I start off at a fairly decent pace (of which more later), and effortlessly glide up the street and into the park. Pootle round the first 2K with barely a sweat (for me). Hit the big hill at the back of the park, maintain a steady rhythm up it and am generally confident I'll be in good shape for the next time round, unlike last Wednesday when I almost vomited (but kept running!). I glance up upon rounding the bend at the top of the hill and see three little local gangsta wannabes walking in to the park from Tulse Hill. They're grinning and staring at me.

"Oh great, here we go", I think, continuing to run towards them. By this time I had a fair old face sweat going on due to the hill so they probably thought I was an easy target. Sure enough, as I reach them, the elder one (why is it these trios always have the older one who looks like he may have hit puberty, and two munchkin hencemen who obviously regard him as some sort of demi-god cos he can reach the top shelf of the newsagents?) steps out towards me saying "mister, you got the time?". As I swerve round him he swings a punch in my general direction. Still running, I look round and scream "F*** OFF!!!!" whilst giving him the finger and continue on my merry way.

Halfway down the hill I glanced round to discover the little twats scampering after me, the oldest swinging his belt over his head. I stopped abruptly (funnily enough they did too) and started walking back towards them. I flinched in belt-swingers general direction. Belt-swinger took a few jumps back. "What the f*** are you going to do with that?", I asked him. No reply. Half hearted swing. "Go on then. What are you waiting for? Hit me with it". No response. "Have you little shits not got anything better to do with your time?" Still no reply.

It was at this point I remembered I was in Tulse Hill and decided it was probably best not to try and take things further (and in any case had no idea what to say or do next - am gonna stock up on "your momma's so fat" insults for next time). So I shook my head in that 'disappointed' way that we adults do at the state of today's youth, and off I jogged, to the strains of the youngest one (about 8 years old) shouting "yeah, that's it, run, you homo". Like a stingray barb to the heart that was, I tell you.

Anyway, my enforced stop put me out of my rhythm so I didn't make it the whole way round, not really having the energy to attempt the long hill or further annoyance second time round, so I cut out of the park halfway round my second lap. And therefore have failed to increase my "maximum distance" again.

Was absolutley gutted to get home and discover I had only been out for 25 minutes, including the stop. About the same length of time it's taken you to read this.

On the plus side, the vaguely accurate routefinder on RunLondon's website reckons that is 5.12kms, which means I'm well on course to do the race in under in hour, as long as I increase my stamina. Maybe if I don't run as quick I'll last longer?

In other news, my toe is still black, which is concerning. Any advice other than "can you still feel it?" (yes) and "are you sure it's not gangrene?" (yes. kind of) much appreciated.

Oh, and I saw Sven Goran Eriksson today. He was just kicking about near my work. Or to be more accurate, defying everyone else's advice and playing long balls to a lone front man. (Apologies to all non-football fans and to Lucy, who has already heard that particular gem once today).

Tatt.

*as opposed to "little elfin shits", which would have been well weird