Day 3. Woke up this morning to the sight of my own breath in the cold December air. My girlfriend insists the temperature needs to dip below -2 degrees Celcius to warrant putting on the super sear on in the mornings. I dare not argue. I broke myself away from the icy bed sheets and slid into my Breaffy GAA shorts which I've had since I've had since the u-12 final against Crossmolina in the early 90's.. They don't leave much to the imagination but by Jaysus do they keep my nads warm...
I set off down Taylor's Hill both hamstrings plucking like a well tuned guitar, when I spot a fellow 'athlete' coming in my direction. Her attention is drawn to me by my incredibly hairy chest pertruding around my gold chains. This sets my mind wandering... of another cold winters day in Trim, Co. Meath. This of course is where my love for running began. But this certain incident deserves a post all of it's own. . . .. My day dream is broken by my pager going off in my water tight shorts. "My breakfast is not going to cook itself". I turn on my heal to avoid another tongue-lashing.....