I was up before the Germans. In trainers and a glorified string vest (fully breathable, seasonally adjustable, £159.99) I ran three laps of the complex, timing myself. Thirty minutes and a bit, which at my usual pace added up to something over six kilometres. I run at at eight minute mile pace, not bad for my age but a full minute slower than my peak a quarter of a century ago. Back then, I cared little for running; it was too easy, and to run at speed made me look unattractively keen. I mused upon what I might once have been capable of, had I put the hours in...
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We at Jon Horne's New Words apologise to readers for the inconvenience. I'm trying to sort it so that I can publish the stories on Kindle and leave them on here.
We at Jon Horne's New Words apologise to readers for the inconvenience. I'm trying to sort it so that I can publish the stories on Kindle and leave them on here.
