10 Of My Worst Moments As An Angry Jogger.
- Breaking down at the 11 mile mark on my first half marathon in Larne and discovering at the end that I was bleeding heavily from my nipples. It was the last time I wore my Barcelona Away top whilst running.
- Tripping over a stray water bottle at mile 10 of the Cardiff Half Marathon and shouting ‘fuck!’ at some random guy. If I ever meet him again I’ll buy him a pint. Wasn’t his fault. He could have punched me in the face and I’d have had no grounds to complain.
- Losing my timing chip at the Great North Run and not recording a time. Soured my mood for the rest of the race.
- Having to run with my credit card, train pass and a £10 note for the bus back to Glasgow Airport at the Great Scottish Run after pissgate. I’d brought my Camelbak along with me but the fucking thing wouldn’t stop leaking after I put Lucozade Sport in it.
- Nearly getting hit by a car on the Falls Road after running through Ardoyne, down the Shankill and the Springfield Road. Sprinted across the road just to get out of West Belfast and nearly got hit. I survived.
- Going over my ankle on a drunken jog outside Monte Gordo in Portugal. Running following an afternoon of cocktails and sun is just asking for trouble.
- Miles 1-13.1 in the Liverpool Half Marathon when my spare change in my Camelbak wouldn’t stop jangling for the entire race. This led to many people asking “what’s that fucking jangling noise? “any spare change?” “is that a reindeer behind us?”. I looked this happy for 13.1 miles.
- Finishing the Waterside Half Marathon and deciding it was time to try to walk it into the the city centre. This would have been alright if it weren’t for the fact it was 5 fucking miles away. I quit my walk after 3 miles and a Subway. A cab took me the rest of the way.
- Aiming for a sub 5 hour marathon in my first ever race and missing out on the time by 56 fucking seconds. I thought I’d missed it by a lot more at the time as I was timing myself by race not chip time.
- Missing out on the Dublin Marathon 2011 after deciding it would be fun to try to get the bus from Portugal to Barcelona in under 36 hours. It’s doable but it isn’t fucking fun. Don’t try it. I arrived back in Belfast the evening before the Marathon but was in no state to do it after no sleep for over 2 days.
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