Monk Quixote

… for stormy weather. Woah woah woah, it is TIME for STORMY WEATHER. Da ding dern da ding dern (that’s a gui­tar break folks) etc.

I love that song. I used to put Pix­ies lyrics in my out of office — ‘Dig­ging for fire’. Came back to odd looks. I’m not a pyro­men­tal­ist. Or a pylon­men­tal­ist. Or a python­men­tar­ian, come to that.

Any­hoo. Judg­ing by the fact I did my first weight-training ses­sion in A-G-E-S today (it hurt), it must mean, by some per­verse logic, that it is time to start racing.

Dor­ney Lake. March 15th. 10k. There will be welly. And whatfor.

Let’s talk about P and B,
bay­bee,
let’s talk about MVP
bay­bee
Let’s talk about socks.

Yes, for it is the socks that run­neth over. And boy, do these socks run. Socks that run are only as good as the legs in them. And the legs in them are good. Although there is no ‘eth’ in the month and the PB shall not-eth be of the bib­li­cal variety.

But neme­ses beware, the ideas of a March hare, are sim­ply to run faster than you. So there.

It’s time to start rac­ing. And kick­ing up a storm.

And so it begins.