Jerry turns up at my house wearing Five Fingers

  • Sunday, December 09, 2012
  • 0

 Jerry turns up at my house wearing Five Fingers.
Monkey feet.
I am in the loo but he is my friend so I emerge to give him a drink. He has already been for a run but with his generous spirit invites me to join him for a few more miles. I need no second invitation and scramble into my gear and grab my head torch. 
It turns into one of those runs, a combination of Alice in Wonderland and Monty Python. Running down a little used back road we see this ornate and expensive clock standing on an electrical substation. There is a blanketed horse in the field but no sign of any humans. Or the horse could be a panto horse?
We leave it where it is. The clock that is. Come to think of it we ignore the horse as well, I don't think it cares much.
Our conversation turns to those runners who feel the need to embellish the truth, escalating their tall tales as the miles roll by until they are totally impossible. These runners live in a fantasy world where they believe totally what they are telling you. They have desperately interesting and dramatic lives. They are superhuman beings with wonderful powers.
I am reminded of the classic Monty Python Four Yorkshiremen skit:
I think that I am a boring runner.
We finish an entertaining 55 minutes in the dark, our head torches picking out the deep mud and with another great conversation behind us.

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