clueless

late start. to vineyard. run into manager of former, unpopular, elitist running team that poached other clubs' runners. pass occasionally and saw at last race. possibly due to embarrassment explain reason for rubbish performance. unnecessary detail. unnecessary full stop - he thought i was ‘rattling along’ at end. continue giving impression of being clueless idiot. says i can call if i ever want advice. says why don’t i give him my number. oh no. suspect he wants to coach someone. sort of have a coach and don’t want to give it anyway as find him somewhat pushy. give it. oh no. searches through rucksack. try to avert future awkwardness by mentioning our promising junior. seems interested. say i’ll have a word. rarely see junior and his coach wouldn’t be pleased. oh fuck. shouldn’t have stopped. idiot. continue sodding run. over downs to bury hill, as usual. virtual kicking of self fails to obscure increasing discomfort of achilles. truck full of tree parts pulls up in bus bay. some way past hear oi yelled aggressively. don’t think it’s for me but can’t see who else it’s for. not the best way to go about getting directions if that’s what they want. park feels spring like. canada geese gliding on water. run gradually slows to jog. still light. still kicking myself.