Don’t Call Me Comrade

I tried. Well, I made a less-than-worthy attempt. My heart wasn’t in the training. I could never quite see the glamour or ‘worthiness’ of shuffling furtively round the dark streets long before sunrise, but I gave it a go. I even tried the flaming hot running shorts Phil Greenberg gave me in the hopes I’dContinue reading “Don’t Call Me Comrade”

Rise up, Comrades!

We’re watching the Comrades Marathon out on the road again tomorrow, I announce. My house is infested with five know-it-alls. We’ll get up at about 5.30 and be there by 6. The route is about 600m up the road and we like to watch the ‘up’ run if we’re home. Aaw, Dad, can’t we watchContinue reading “Rise up, Comrades!”