10 miler Sunday

Going old school with my measuring today. Something more powerful for us Brits talking about a “ten miler” than 16 kilometres. You can’t slang speak kilometres for a start, I mean it’s just too official. Not surprising when you consider that French Academy of Sciences created it between 1790-1793. The mile on the other hand is from Roman times and was originally one thousand paces set by marching Roman soldiers. Science? Who needs that? Just let loose a legion of soldiers! Silly French scientists. Of course the actually mile distance varied according to how hard the soldiers marched, but nevertheless its use spread throughout the Roman Empire. Many countries got a little “creative” with it after a few ales and muddled it with their own “local” systems, not least the British (silly buggers). Those Romans may have been clever toga wearing conquerors, but they created a mess with the mile. For once the French may have got something right. Other than cheese, wine, bread and various cured meats. And democracy. And Marie Curie*. And surrendering.

To Lydia’s disdain I enjoyed about three slices of banana bread after running, but no stock was made. Tomorrow I will roast two pork belly’s in her honour instead.

Enjoyed a brunch of eggs and bacon at home post running, before heading down to the beach to play the enjoyable game of “avoid all the human bastards”. I didn’t take my “dog gloves”, so I wasn’t able to say hello to any of them in case their filthy owners have passed on something to them. Yep definitely been locked up too long.

Words: 271. Target: 250. It’s not surprising that Instagram makes people’s lives more interesting. I could’ve just taken a photo of a slice of banana bread oozing with butter with Coogee beach in the background and it would’ve made more sense than this post!

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