The clue was in the name: Sunny Hill Parkrun. To be fair, whatever speed I did here was a bonus, considering that wine o’clock had started around lunch time the previous day. Just to roll up for the start was a win.
It was yet another murky day, and cold enough to keep my London Marathon consolation jacket for most of the way around. On the plus side, the views from the tops of these hills were far-reaching, across a good chunk of northwest London all the way to Harrow on the Hill, and Wembley Stadium.
I had been thrown out of the car at the edge of the park just before our eleven-year-old granddaughter had her swimming lesson. I am aware that I should have, as a good grandparent, stayed in the car and gone to watch her first lesson in her advanced group. Rian had set herself the challenge of swimming a kilometre every day over the summer and had improved so much that they’d moved her up two levels.
I can be a bit selfish sometimes with my running, but it was down to my parkrun request that she got to her new group on time, as it started a couple of hours earlier than her previous lesson had done, and the family’s Saturday morning heads hadn’t quite registered that fact. So, I don’t feel too bad. Anne told me she’d been brilliant, and easily held her own in the group.
Compared to the several hundreds of people at my usual Birkenhead Parkrun, the assembly of runners at Sunny Hill Park was very small. Luckily for me, they were still finishing off announcements and I was able to tuck myself into the middle of the back. The first few people I spoke to, two newly relocated Aussie guys and an older woman, were all first timers here like me, and had no experience with how hilly this route was. Eventually as we got going, one fella told me it was about two and half laps containing six hills. And that it was in the top ten of the hilliest parkruns in the UK.
I’m not sure if he is right on that last one, but it was certainly the hilliest one I’ve done. After having my hopes dashed for getting a warm-up jog, because swimming goggles and clean towels were being hunted down, my breathing was seriously gaspy for the first half of the course. I still managed to keep running though, and after about mile two, I was able to speak again and exchange the odd word with fellow participants.
We were down in London this weekend because I was cashing in on a raffle prize I’d won some months previously. It was a double whammy evening of dinner at The London Steakhouse Company followed by two tickets to see The Lion King musical. I never normally win anything, but this rare exception was certainly a biggie.
The meal had been pretty good and filled a hole well, but I was blown away by the production. Even though we were in the gods, our view of the stage was brilliant, and the sheer creative ingenuity that went into the creation of the animal puppetry was phenomenal. I think it is a menopausal thing, but my tear ducts seem to be working a lot at the minute. They were particularly active during the Circle Of Life intro, when the live music, singing, and the visual spectacle made for a sensational opening.
That had all been on the Thursday evening, and we stayed overnight in the centre, imbibing the start of the Christmas selling onslaught in Covent Garden market the following day – and the first of the wine – before heading back to Rian and her mum and dad’s for when she came home from school.
Not only had she shown dedication with her swimming but she’d got her chosen secondary school for next year with excellent eleven-plus scores, so en route to Edgware, we got her a little something from the Animetal store, her favourite shop for Anime figurines.
In the afternoon on Saturday, Rian baked blondies with Anne as a practice for a school baking competition and then showed me how to edit videos. I had to tell her to slow down and tell me again, but I am at that age now. Which is no bad thing because for the first time ever, I podiumed at Sunny Hill with a third-place finish in the Women’s Over 50 category. Granted it was from a field of six but it’s never happened before, so I’ll take it.
theleadlesspencil 
I can’t speak about the menopause, but I cry at more and more these days. Music especially. I listened to Lesley Manville’s ‘Desert Island Discs’ earlier. It started with Eva Cassidy singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ but it was Barbra Streisand’s ‘While I’m Around’ – a mother’s pledge to her son – which had me blubbering. Thankfully, I was walking across Bodmin Moor at the time, so the sheep were the only witnesses to my sentimentality.
Oh yes, certain pieces of music always do it for me. For some odd reason Vincent by Don McLean always does it to me
Terrific job. We took the boys to see the Lion King on stage when it first started – about 25 years ago? They loved it (aged about 7 and 9) but still remember best that Simba’s trousers fell down during one song – the child actor was a real trooper, didn’t miss a beat and got through the rest of the scene one handed as the other held the offending trousers in place.
Well that would be memorable! I often wonder why a lot of stories or films are turned into musicals but in this case it was an art form all of its own. Superb.