Up at an impossibly early time for a Sunday (7am) to run in Leeds and raise cash for Help The Aged/our trip to darkest Peru. All sounded okay on paper, but the one road out of Hull was closed and we were put on possibly the longest diversion in history, meaning I rocked up at the start 25 minutes after everybody had left. For crissakes, people were even starting to finish the seven miler when I set off and all the bollards and traffic calming had finished, meaning I had no idea where I was going. Somehow, I manged not only to finish the route but to sidle my way past eight of the slowest runners to finish in a commendale 5,442nd out of 5,550. The fear of finishing last actually led to me recording a PB (personal, not Pete, Best) and it was great to pass one sarcastic runner who had shouted "at least I'm not last" as I entered the grounds of the beautiful Kirkstall Abbey. Being at least a mile ahead of me, she probably felt safe, but I assumed by best Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man tude, and cruised past her.
Elsewhere on the weekend, went to Hull's newest Real Ale pub, The Hop and Vine. The owners have taken over a former tapas bar, so the pints of Copper Dragon sat rather weirdly with candelabras and Spanish tables. Felt like a secret gent's club, playing some winsome old folkie called Vin Garbutt "the best folk singer, ever", the barman moistily opined.