It's a drag these cold, dark, wet mornings

6:18 - no, I'm not going to go for a run this morning. It'll be a rush anyway today.

6:22 - come on, you're awake, you feel OK, just do it.

So I trotted off through the drizzle. Just 3 kilometres this morning, though. Faster than usual, though.

I passed a chap running the other way, young, lithe, swift, running with grace.

I thought of my crazy friend, Desmond, the evangelist who lives in a van.
"What's happened to you?" he said again yesterday, "you've lost a lot of weight, sure you have*"

I haven't. Perhaps between 3 and 8 kg. That's not a lot! However:

 1) All my life I have inflated in people's memories. I put on weight in their recollection. 
This means that almost every time people see me for the first time in months, they think I've lost weight.

 2) Redistribution. I'm like a good French steak, whatever colour the outside is I'm pink at heart, and I've redistributed some weight from my haunches to my legs.

 I thought of my good friend Larry in Leipzig, who I've never met.
He says I got him running and awarded me kudos. (I ducked and the kudos got someone else)

I thought of my good friend Gary Benfold, who I've also been able to encourage to run.
'Run, Benfold, run for your life!' I tell him.

 And I gallumphed happily on.

* Desmond didn't actually say "sure you have", but he jolly well ought to have done

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