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charles Darwin day

Updated on February 10, 2017
soft and brown like the muzzle of my childhood dream pony...
soft and brown like the muzzle of my childhood dream pony...
the sound of clinker, filtered through ,and cold steely pressed on my prescience,here, now the stark reality of the mammoth task impinged itself on my awareness.
the sound of clinker, filtered through ,and cold steely pressed on my prescience,here, now the stark reality of the mammoth task impinged itself on my awareness. | Source

half marathon , at half a century right. You know ,its never to late. Never say never,,,,never say...no..

But ,the day had arrived, as for the past five years, with a steady sense of time running through the seasons .The future nearly always arriving too soon with too many threads, and such a lot, left undone; but if there was ever a ground zero day,then today was as good as any, and the call to make the starting line proved irresistible.

Darwin day, brought its summons, and though it required far more than an '' a to b'', or as the crow flies, so to speak, a diagonal short cut, and months of hard training,to endure the lap by lap,pounding around the track, to fulfil the necessary requirements of ''the distance''I was booted,and kitted, and ready for the starters orders.

One of a hundred pairs of training shoes and a swathe of romantic appeal with each step in this arduous task, only the beginning, as each distance runner acknowledges My batteries had died the night before, not unusual,and only with mild chagrin did I afford a side glance towards my son, head forever bowed over his expensive fashionable new model, and lucrative contract;worth its weight in instances like these.Still, to amend, I had managed to swap the creased blue fiver, part change at the service station coffee , a boost for my flagging' morning doubts, and shake off the night before in the back of my van, with warm blankets cossetting my night 's sleeping guardian angels; along with my phone, an old standard chocolate block LG, for a tenner. I folded the note neatly, into the sleeve which would've held a dead weight of LG technology,and like a new skin, counted my worth in this route ,round and round, with the ticking clock, measuring many a foot fall, and amorously worked out my new outfit, coming to several thousands, and fighting off the bitter february chill,careful to balance my gait, so as not lose a note, each precious, serving to supplement my donations to the precious lives appeal for the childrens' south west hospice, and in this new ground, north of the river, in the land of my birth, and mothers too, just the English side of the Offa's dyke in the old market town of Shrewsbury, where years and many moons before , amongst the eminence of the gentlemen who make history proud, Charles Darwin,was born 1809.february 12th.

Well. give or take a couple of laps, I felt a reassuring comfort running around in the birthplace of this explorer ,closer than ever than the old school day history books, and the propagation of species, and wrapped at the end with the sleeve note pressing on my arm, with a warm foil, feeling a little rosy red faced, indeed like a bird , for the oven,decided that not all necessarily fit for the cause, but, if you don't try, then you just will never know.

maybe next year i'll plumb for a twenty, and run the whole course.


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