I set off on a solo 18 miler, from North Berwick, along the road to Aberlady and then back along the beach to North Berwick. Peter was going to meet up with long, tall Ben Kemp and run with him from Edinburgh to North Berwick, and we would try to all meet up in NB - other wise it would be the train for Buchanan.
I set off on stiff Carnethy legs feeling a bit grim, still non-plussed by just how rubbish my running remains. About 5 miles into it I found myself thinking about my young nephews calling themselves, each other and everyone else "Fucktards" and it made me laugh and lifted my mood. It was no road to Damascus moment but it was cheering.
For the rest of the run, I took little seriously. I wondered if the people I was meeting along the way at Aberlady Bay were fucktards or not. You'd have to ask my nephews. I don't know what the criteria are.
Further along the beach I was knackered but there was the most beautiful and still sunset so I didn't hurry. I was pretty sure Peter and Ben were going to be ages anyway. When I finally got back to the van at NB I phoned Peter and he and Ben were in Dirleton. They made it to NB just after dark, looking pale and sweaty.
It was a lovely day.