Monday, 18 October 2004
If anything can be predicted with confidence, it's the weather in Great Yarmouth in October. Lashing winds, drizzle, big frowning horizon, minimum difference between sea and sky. How odd, then, that the sun should poke through as Sean and I reached the 3k point in this morning's Great Yarmouth Road Runners' Promenade 10k. Fortunately the sun soon thought better of it.
The official photographer was Marchamont. He, unfortunately, announced (to Sean's mum) shortly before the start of the race that running was boring and wanted to find some crabbers. There were no crabbers, but there was a fishing competition in town, and he discussed flat fish with a number of the competitors, and was allowed to handle a couple of flounders. He had a great time. This means, of course, that there were no photographs -- none except the one below, taken outside the GReat Yarmouth Promenade men's urinal, showing Sean and I looking limber.
My number was 103; Sean's as you can see was 303. Add them and you get 436. Line 436 of Beowulf reads: “I hereby renounce sword and the shelter of the broad shield" or something like that. Could it be a coincidence?
Up and down the promenade twice, and we were given a really cheap looking medal. Unfortunately -- again -- Marchamont and Sean's mum were off speaking to competitive fishermen, in possession of the car keys, so Sean and I had to run another five or so miles looking for them along the sea front in the lashing rain before we could retrieve our warm clothes.
Oh, I ran a 41:30, faster than I'd intended (you'll remember the miserable 43:50 in Cardiff six weeks ago). Sean forgot to look at his watch in the adrenalin rush.