Archives for: April 2007

Oh look, I've got a Facebook profile.

Quite probably the most conclusive sign that I have reached the bottom.

Please.

Marathon Photos take pictures of you when you're running a race. Running a half-marathon seemed like an achievement worth spending money on a memento, so I forked out and bought the two pictures of me. Keen to make use of them, I sent them to a few people in the office.

NT responded, "is that man alive?"

"It looks like the runner in the background (719?) is concerned for me."

"Sean just said the same thing. You look like you aged 50 years. Is that near the end?"

"That one was at the beginning. This one was near the end."

"I think you should give up now, some people are just not built for endurance running, you're going to kill yourself."

"And let Sean win?"

"Ok, who wins if you drop dead. How bad did you feel that day, how bad have you felt since, have you been able to train properly? You should take a leaf out of that young girl's book, stick to max 10K, that way you can keep fit without being stupid. Male f~king pride!"

"Um ... bad morning?"

"No not at. Just a bit concerned by the look of you in those photos."

Thank you for your support.

Some men accept the passage of time. They cut their hair shorter and accept that success comes from the use of their mind.

Then there's that group of men who ignore the passage of time and the collection of their past behaviour that now hangs over their belts and claim, between mouthfuls of crisps, that the young temp' is "gaggin' fur it".

Finally, there are those who think that decay can be reversed by surgery, or simply outrun.

The Edinburgh Forthside Half-Marathon. My first (and surely my last) attempt to run just over 13-miles. Completed, without slowing to a walk, in 1 hour 51 minutes and 24 seconds. If the report of the timing seems more precise than required - I won a £5 bet that I would have lost had I been a mere 90-seconds slower.

You didn't think I was going to opt for shaving my head and maturity, did you? Maturity!

I was watching television early one evening last week. A movie trailer came on during the adverts. Two pre-pubescent children in some kind of ET movie. Dull. Dull until the name of the movie was given.

The Last Mimzy.

So, we've got two children who "find a mysterious box of toys" including a rabbit in a movie called "The Last Mimsy". You say Lewis Carroll, I say expect to see a lot of disappointed men in raincoats leaving the cinema.