UP until Wednesday I was all set to race 5km at today’s Northern Road Relays. Then, late on Wednesday afternoon, I got a text message.
‘Hi Liz, would you mind doing a long leg on Saturday pretty please.’
I was at university at the time, enjoying a cuppa and a flapjack with my friends. I glanced at the message. Something had obviously gone amiss with our team.
Immediately I replied, ‘No probs,’ and carried on chatting with my friends. In fact, I carried on chatting for a good few minutes before something dawned on me.
‘How long’s a long leg?’
‘What you on about?’ My Uni-writing friends stared at me, puzzled looks on their faces.
‘Running,’ I said. ‘I’ve just signed up to a long leg and I don’t know how long a long leg actually is!’
I tried to think.Chris has been talking about the relays for weeks. He’d told me the distances. Was it four miles? I couldn’t quite recall.
I grabbed my phone, my fingers tapping quickly. ‘How long is a long leg?’
The reply came back. ‘Ha ha! Too late. 9.5k.’
‘Hahaha! I should have asked that first.’
It was too late to make any excuses. My bad back. My dodgy knee. My slowness. My oldness. So this morning, I’m in Blackpool, ready to take part in the Northern Road Relays.
And 5k or 9.5k, I can’t wait. I’ve wanted to take part in this event for a long time. It’s the main reason I changed clubs. So here I am, ready and raring to go!