On running and running and running

I haven't posted recently because I'm either running or in a dance class. Mornings and weekends I run, evenings I go to ballet, jazz, tap, contemporary...whatever is available after my new job selling advertising. (I have to ring universities all over Europe, which is working wonders for my mastery of German and Icelandic.) I don't know where the wind came from, but my sails are full, and I simply can't stop. Last Sunday was a perfect example - I planned to do a long training run by myself around London, and I loosely plotted a 21km tour of my favourite London parks. But the Indian summer was sheer heaven and the city was like a pleasure ground. So I ran through Regent's Park, where the Eid celebrations had drawn a crowd of white clad men, and little girls in party dresses. Then I did an extra lap, before heading over to Notting Hill, where the last chocolate halva croissant awaited me on the shelf at Gail's Bakery and I munched as I jogged through the weekenders thronging the stalls of eclectic tat. By the time I got home, three hours and twenty minutes later, I had run 36km. And I felt like doing another 30.