I've agreed to stand at the starting line and begin running a half marathon on Sunday. Which is hilarious is many respects, at least until I'm out there running and wishing I had prepared more and whining, whining, whining. In any case, however uncertain I am about my own fitness, I'm still sure I could trounce my original running partner right now if she hadn't been too chicken to enter. Bwawk! Bwawk!
(Is that the correct typing of what a chicken sounds like? I type the noise I make when I imitate a chicken, and 'Bwawk' seems right.)
Said running partner will always be cherished not only for her patience through times of much lower fitness, but also for allowing me to sing Kirsty MacColl's "Terry" to myself for inspiration toward the end of our runs. ("Terry wants my photograph." Really--I know few things for sure in this world, but one is: life is too short to spend it with someone who shows no interest in having a photograph of you.)
BTW, be sure to congratulate Kieran if you haven't.