THE GOOD BUCK

Same shit, different day.

The slogan had been on the ‘fridge so long that John opened the door without consciously registering it. Had he been asked about it he would probably say it was true; get breakfast, go to work, come home, have a pizza and a beer, watch some TV, play some games, go to bed, and repeat. That was just the routine of existence, common to most. He’d originally put the magnet on a different ‘fridge when he was fresh out the army. He’d been young, disillusioned and as cheaply cynical as the statement. But that was 12 years ago. John poured milk onto his muesli and shut the ‘fridge door.

He made a fresh coffee and took a moment to look out of the window at his garden. This was the best time of the year for it. Spring was really getting into gear and the garden was bursting with potential. Vibrant greens and freshly minted leaves were bringing hope and life back after the frigid void of winter. He took a sip of too hot coffee and just enjoyed the moment. Perhaps if he’d have been asked about the sticker he would just be a little embarrassed by its trite nihilism and dismissed it as an old memento.

Somehow or other I got caught up in motorbikes again. I wasn’t getting much work due to the strikes and I wanted to be prepared to travel to a new job. Or at least that’s how I rationalised it. Possibly (probably) it was just my obsessing and blatant bike desire.

I had resisted and turned my nose up at some really great VFR750s recently. I kept telling myself I didn’t need a bike, and if I got one it would be a modern one with fuel injection to combat the problems of the new ethanol additive fuel (rotting seals in carbs, gumming up carb jets, rusting tank if unused). I regret not getting some of them quite a bit, in retrospect.

I saw one at the bottom end of London (of course. No bike is ever local. It’s the law). It was at the lower end of the price bracket for a VFR, it’s only done 30,000 miles, supposedly full service history (faked, I think, the first few have been loosely stamped then smeared to illegibility) with a near perfect MOT history. The thing is I’m not fond of the colour. A sort of purpley blue with gold wheel rims. I decided I wasn’t going to be the guy who turned down a brilliant condition, low mileage, example for something as petty as the colour.

We went to Spain for a week and that was nice. While we there all sorts of shenanigans broke out in the UK. The last time we went over we left the UK all was normal, we came back a week later and the supermarkets were empty, the streets were desolate and it looked like a post apocalyptic film set. This time we left the UK goose-stepping into totalitarian fascism with no hope of ever escaping the Tory/nazi deathgrip on democracy.

By the time we were flying back we were expecting to be greeted by banners saying “Welcome to the Glorious Worker’s Republic of Corbynistan, comrades!”

While we were over there mother text me to tell me Lisa’s car was dangerously unfit for purpose. The steering is all over the place. We’d told Lisa that we’d get her a new car when she needed one, but she hadn’t told us. When I said about her steering she said “It’s alright. I just don’t go on fast roads.” Incredible. I know she was just trying not to spend our money, which is thoughtful, but dumb. So dumb. She could have gotten herself killed.

Wendy had to start taking some of her holidays so we both booked a week off work. Wendy promptly came down with covid. So that’s lovely. Obviously I followed suit.

She came over all ill on Tuesday, I had to get a test kit, but she tested positive as soon as it arrived on Friday, I tested positive the day after.

It’s dragging it’s feet. It’s Monday and I tested positive again today. Wendy’s barking a lot and has had painful ears and throat, and feels grotty. It’s making her low. I’ve only got a light dose. I feel a bit weak and tired and I’ve got a persistent tickle. The worst thing for me is trying to sleep. I’m having to prop myself upright because when I lie down I’m constantly swallowing and coughing. My funky new watch monitors everything I do, I’m not sure how accurate it is about monitoring sleep, but it said I had 21 minutes deep sleep last night, 5 hours 22 light sleep. I don’t know the ins and outs, but I am knackered for sure.

I’ve been looking at several race predictors and the science is that you lose 8% off your time when you double the distance. So I absolutely have to be 1.25 for a half to stand a chance. That’s 6.30 pace for the distance.

Right. I’m through with waiting for improvement. This week my plan is

I’m resting today. I’ll do the easy trots tomorrow. The 5x 1200m I’ll do as an 11 mile run with a flat out 5K race. I’ll do slow runs (8m/m) for the next two. I might skip the recovery run. Then I’m going to do a test half. I’m going to go out at 6.30 and just try and hold. It’s 15 seconds per mile more than I have done previously. If I’m rested, absolutely determined, and prepared to accept the pain, I might be able to do it.