Relief of the Fleece

The postman delivered two identical parcels this week, one for me and one for my partner. As I felt the large soft package, I beamed with relief. The loser's fleece! J applies for the London Marathon ballot every year and it's in early October that you either get the "congratulations you have secured a place" letter, or what we call the loser's fleece.

In a moment of madness back in April, I actually applied for the ballot as well, although my running is very sporadic. I am not a gifted runner and have been told I have a peculiar gait, which doesn't inspire me to be the next Paula Radcliffe although I quite like buying the latest running gear.

Anyway, I know the form by now, so I was pretty relieved when I received the loser's fleece. Phew. I rang J and said "we're both losers," to which he said "oh no, not the fleece." He then tried it on when he got home and declared it a great asset to his wardrobe.

He will still probably be able to run in the London marathon next year as a member of a running club. He's spent countless hours on marshalling duty at races and taking and uploading photos. Next weekend we will both be in Chicago where he will run his 18th marathon, and the last in the world's top 10 that he hasn't done. Honolulu, London, Berlin, Paris, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Stockholm, Boston, Chicago, New York. It's been quite an oddyssey.