Well then. We're all in. A week or so ago the Fat Controller (well, actually, these days the role of the Challenge Coordinator is shared by two sylph-like waifs, but it suited the description of the last incumbent, so I'll stick with tradition) popped a note on the TGO Challenge Message Board letting us know that this year the entry numbers had been raised and everyone could now come to the party.
Straight after reading this shocking news I looked down at my burgeoning belly, escaping from beneath my t-shirt. It looked back up at me, reproachfully. Oh God. I'm going to have to go for a walk now, to sort the bastard out.
It hammered down with rain this morning, but by mid afternoon it had blown through. My razor sharp mind calculated that there was just time for a quick out and back to the pond in the woods.
Five miles, no passes. It's a doddle, this walking lark...