It is Saturday morning. You are lying in bed and your eyes are closed. You can hear your partner gently breathing next to you. All is calm in the world. All is serene. You could almost stay here all day. Only you cant, because your mind is already whirring. Your eyes might be closed but thats only because youre painting a mental picture of the race youll be running in an hour. Every step, every turn, the final sprint. Today is the day you will break your Personal Best and rush headlong into a weekend of success and vitality. You jump out of bed. Excited, adrenaline already coursing through your body and then...crap. What clothes should you wear? Do you go all black with sunglasses so everyone thinks youre aloof like an assassin? Do you wear that T-Shirt you got from the London Marathon just so, you know, everyone knows youre a serious runner? How about your favourite old comfortable shorts, the ones with the holes in the inappropriate places only you know about? How about a red, breathable top because you read somewhere that red was a colour that would psychologically make you run faster? How about...oh God!!! You stand there, clothes all over the floor. This is worse than going on a night out. Much worse. You know that this decision will affect your time today. Only it wont but, hey, every little helps.
