Report from Stephen Boddy:
It was a murky, misty morning on Sunday and I spent most of the drive to the Bradford thinking on some of life’s imponderables; why had I paid £18 to run up and down Canal Road; why didn’t England just kick the effing penalty? Why did I feel the need to have one more beer last night?
Anyway, the buzz at the start line jolted me from my reverie and I saw a few of the fast lads doing a warm up that consisted of more than a quick jog on the spot and a slug of Lucozade. I caught Tom Adams’ eye and the message was clear “One of us is going to win today Tom, I can feel it”.
A free pumpkin and cinnamon infused espresso had me positively bouncing to the start line and I blame that for my ridiculous first mile which I completed in a swift 6 ½ mins. Pride comes before a fall and I spent the next five miles ‘falling’ and I battled home in 45.17 which is bang average for me.
This ended my streak of nine PBs in a row on the road and I lay the blame squarely at the feet of my 6 month old son whose idea of sleeping is markedly different to mine, this is a new excuse for me and I like to find a variety of excuses to explain away sub-par performances because it is obviously never my own fault.
Didn’t see many Otley vests but I think I saw a Frank-like blur come past me at some point.