So Racing For Life today. 1500 people have gathered in 27 degree heat. My companions have forty years on me. I am relying on them being slowed down by their tutus and fairy wings. I don’t envy the participants in the fleecy onesies. I feel a little conspicuous as I am not wearing regulation pink. I rarely do pink. My one pink T-shirt has long sleeves – you must be joking. You can always spot those who are taking this just a tad too seriously. They have personalised water bottles and are checking their stop watches. We do the obligatory prancing about that is laughingly called a ‘warm up’. Warm up? I am already sweltering.
I have a year’s worth of Zumbaing under my belt since last years R 4 L. Trouble is it always comes straight after I have spent a month being immobile as a result of the job I must not mention. I was hoping to get round the 5k in under 40 minutes. I contemplate jogging the shady bits – I don’t contemplate it for long. Actually there are very few shady bits. I am proud of myself for pretty much jogging the whole first kilometre, when bottlenecks allowed. I graciously allow the youngsters to get ahead of me – wouldn’t do to demoralise them too much. Manage to get round in 42 minutes 10 seconds – pretty good considering the heat. Great to see so many raising money for a good cause. Am I the only one to find it ironic that someone who has just completed the course, sporting a ‘let’s kick cancer’ t- shirt, is barely across the line before she lights her cigarette? The freebies for completion are somewhat minimal this year – maybe sponsorship is becoming harder to come by. Bring back the cool shoe bags, that’s what I say. Still time to sponsor my efforts.
Home in time to witness Andy Murray’s win. Watching Wimbledon is one of my earliest memories. At 15 months old I was sat in my pram watching a nine inch square black and white TV. It seems I was probably watching Lew Hoad and Althea Gibson. Still mourn the days when there was no tie break and the top players played doubles and singles. Early memories are part of our family history and we need to record them.