On a day off, with a hangover, when any sane person would be lying on the couch drinking fat Coke and reading the papers, I was heard saying ‘I must just pop out to that new running shop in Bletchley’.
Then, I spent half an hour perusing the polyester t-shirts and garishly coloured running raincoats.
Then, I bought an ankle support, sports tape (a year ago I didn’t even know such a thing existed), a very snazzy little hand shaped water bottle and some Lucozade gels.
And to top it all off, I spent five minutes perusing the running caps.
But it gets worse. Then I went into the shopping centre, and was excited to see there was a Sports Direct I’d never noticed before (that’ll be because until recently I was sane). So despite the fact that I was on my way to Waterstone’s bookshop for a coffee and a read, I took a detour into yet another polyester clothing emporium.
Then I went into the bookshop, picked up two books on running, and had a coffee (and a chat with my Twitter chums).
But then I came home, like a sane person, and had dinner, didn’t I?
I popped into the house, picked up a couple of bottles of Lucozade Sport, and drove round my running route for tomorrow IN THE DARK and stashed said bottles behind gateposts and in a ditch. Like I said, I’ve lost the plot.