A frustration of runners

After a long, cold, wet winter pounding the pavements and roads in the dark around Eccleshill, dodging traffic, hopping over dog poo and discarded fast food, some of it pre-eaten, turning a deaf ear to the shouts from passing hot-hatchers, ‘cum on luv, run faster!’, tonight was to mark the start of the summer season and escape from that kind of thing. Instead, we’d be running through leafy lanes and wooded glades, pretty-as-a-picture riversides and wide open meadows, can there be anything better? Well, none of us got to find out.

A conspiracy of forces of nature at one side of the city and a massive fire at the other stopped us before we could start. All the roads from Bradford to the starting point of our run were at a complete standstill. No-one was going anywhere, except Duracell Mick, that is. As I waited impatiently, making no progress, contemplating abandoning the car and running the last mile, Mick went zooming past, he’s a fantastic runner, who, like the bunny in the Duracell advert just keeps going and going and going. He’d already left his car and was heading for the start, the extra couple of miles were just a pre warm-up for him.

Finally three of us made it there, we waved goodbye to Mick who was going the long way round to return to his car, and waited for the others to join us. And waited.  Then the heavens opened, we’d been prepared to get wet (as usual) but suddenly it didn’t seem such a good idea any more. It was a sign, a sign to go home and eat chips, the leafy glades will still be there on Friday, unless they’ve been washed away by the torrential rain, that is.

The rest of the Eccleshill Road Runners had turned back, peeved at missing out on a run, especially for the first time at our summer base. If there is to be a collective noun for us tonight, I’d say it’s definitely a frustration of runners.

Does my bum look big in this?

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