I Can See The Finish Line

Thank Fuck. I should be able to crawl from here. So it is done, I have dragged my huge lycra clad barrel of flesh over hill and dale and to the finish line without incidence apart from nightmarish cramps and a total lack of speed. I saw a child competitor with no skin on his knee – and my buddy Ed coming the other way with a grimace like a gargoyle, in his bright green jersey. They are my only memories of the day. I resolve to wear brighter colours in future – I looked like a stage hand at a puppet theatre.

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