I was peacefully sleeping off my vodka and white wine hangover this morning after a lovely meal at The Folly with my girlfriend last night, when I felt a little nudge.
“We haven’t had this in a long time have we darling?”
“What?” I mumbled, mostly still asleep.
“Had beans on toast” she said, as though it were obvious.
“But we haven’t had beans on toast?” I said waking up, “we had monkfish and a steak”.
“Oh be quiet” she said, and then she did a little snore and turned over.
So I found myself awake at 8.30am on a Saturday morning; an unusual experience.
Even more unusually I decided to go out for a morning run to the nearby Wanstead Flats, a nice big area of semi-countryside (ie grass and trees). The weather was cool but bright and I had Lady Gaga pumping from the iPod as I jogged up the road towards the Flats, feeling my hangover gradually ease.
I was expecting the Flats to be pretty quiet but there seemed to be lots of stewards in fluorescent tabards standing about the place. As I was stretching my legs a group of runners began trickling through from the nearby woods and ran past me.
They were running in the same direction I was planning to run, and so I thought “what the hell” and joined the back of the group.
I ran along behind them, following the arrows on trees directing the “run route” which was around the Flats and into a forest where some nice, friendly stewards clapped and cheered us all along.
I wasn’t as fast as the original runners and suddenly it seemed as though lots more runners were behind me and starting to overtake me. I began thinking that perhaps it was the time to leave the run route, but there were too many people running around me now and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself or make the other runners think I was going the wrong way.
We all turned a corner to find lots of people cheering and clapping and shouting words of encouragement and then suddenly there was the finish line and everybody was sprinting towards it and so I sprinted towards it too and received a huge cheer and lots of clapping when I crossed it.
Two smiling stewards holding clipboards made their way towards me and I decided it was probably time that I went home.
I gave them a jolly thumbs up and a wave and used my last remaining bit of energy to run as fast as I could towards the Flats exit.
I was bloody knackered by this point (I am by no means a runner) and practically fell through the front door, had a quick shower and slipped back into bed where my girlfriend was still sleeping soundly. An hour or so later, when she woke up I told her what had happened.
“You are dreaming darling” she said, ironically thinking me to be the sleep-talker in our relationship. It wasn’t until I showed her my muddy trainers that she believed me.