Wombling Free

Feeling elfy? There's a distinct possibility I was late for this run. My fellow elfs had let me down - one of them was working night shifts in a restaurant, serving hot cocoa and candy canes to the disreputable of Streatham, and the other had spent three weeks collecting as many minor ailments as they could to get out of the run. Their latest excuse? Tinsillitis. So, when I woke late enough that only Rudolph could get me to Wimbledon in time, it was tempting to do a cinnamon roll back into bed, and return to the land of nod. Notwithstanding the lateness, elf-number 2 (the one with tinsillitis and a terrible case of optimism), forced the issue. The run was due to start at 09:50. It was 09:10. We could do this. At 09:40, still not quite at the venue, I was thinkingthat missing the race wasn't that bad an option, and picking up a cinnamon bun and a gingerbread late was quite an attractive alternative. But at 09:45, we reached the edge of Wimbledon and spied a herd of runners prancing through the wood, Christmas jumpers, santa hats and jingle bells galore. By 09:48 we reached Wimbledon Common. Fellow Christmas Womblers!! I didn't want to miss the fun, but it seemed impossible. I was so late, and last night's eggnog was weighing heavy. Seeing the icicles of my disappointment, and the distinct lack of parking, my sister screeched the car to a halt in the middle of the common, opened the car door, exclaiming "have fun!", pushed me out into the bitter cold. 09:49. Where there's life there's hope.

I may have walked the first lap, until one of the volunteers threatened to chase me. I may have jogged the second lap until I was overtaken by a Christmas tree. But I did it. Mince pies at the end, and a sousant of frostbite. And eventually my gingerbread late.

Happy Christmas everyone. Run more. It's good for your elf.