Just did an 8k run. NGL fam - it was fucking dreadful. It wasn't as bad as I think but because there were so many people, there were two groups and I ended up with all the faster runners - many of whom usually do the 9 group (would run #ParkRun sub-27, which I do not). They were all very kind and supportive but I was clearly slightly out of my depth, which is weird because it's not like I've not done the 8 group before. But the beginning was all marginally up-hill so I fared much better in the second half. Although by that point was making noises that would put anyone off making love to me for life. Like a donkey that has been given the power of human brain processing but has discovered the end of the world is imminent and only they know but can't communicate it with their donkey vocal apparatus. Insistently distressed. Like 8 billion Timmys are trapped down the well and noone is listening. But I did it and I reluctantly feel pretty good about it and like it was probably a good thing despite feeling like a TOTAL FAILURE. Only joshing - if I was talking to someone else and not myself, I'd be congratulating them and telling them to give their head a wobble and not be so hard on themselves. So well done, me. Thanks, me. You're welcome, me. I'm now going to put sausages and gin into my face, just like the Olympians do. X