I've had more glamorous runs than this. I now have the pleasure of a free hour every Wednesday evening to spend exploring the wonders of Orpington as I please. I contort out of my tracksuit bottoms in the car knowing that the sight of a middle aged man wrestling down his trousers, in a car, in public is not a good look. I wait for cries of alarm but none come, the commuter stream continues past without pause. For my initial foray I choose a conservative approach, straight, left, straight, left, straight, left. More or less, there are a few wiggles and a dogleg thrown in. This is mostly due to the irresistible urge to run down narrow footpaths to see where they go. And of course I have to detour into a large supermarket for a wee. Towards the end of my five miles I run under this underpass with it's classical crumbling brickwork and leaky drainage pipes. It leads me directly to the train station where I tangle with the commuters, extract myself and run on to my car. As a run I am underwhelmed and under worked. I need to get more organised and more adventurous.
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