A Male Soldier’s Song.* Or - the blog as self flagellation

I went for a run (not a jog - a serious, eventually lung bursting run) around the Phoenix Park yesterday. It was not supposed to be lung bursting. The idea was for it to be walk - run - sprint combo as I ease back into the swing of things after a calf strain. Then a soldier turned up. Well, a soldier running at a fairly brisk pace, across the main road in the park and on the opposite footpath to me, so it became a race of sorts. He was in full battle uniform.

Shooting occasional sniper glances at him, I wasn’t going to let him get past me and he for his part obviously stepped up a gear in response to my acceleration. How to appear nonchalant whilst lengthening your stride and moving your arms more vigorously for traction?

For the next roughly four kilometres I had this green bobbing smudge in the corner of my right eye, then the smudge moved past me on his side of the road so I had to put the foot down again to overtake him. And so it went. I just knew it would end in, at the very least, metaphorical tears.
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