I have a huge head, and it’s roughly 40% forehead. Whenever I casually refer to this fact, most people kindly try to reassure me that it’s really not that big. But it really is.
You know that point in the early 90s when bike helmets suddenly got smaller? Mine didn’t. My head simply grew like a goldfish to fill the space left by the improvements in helmet technology. Despite my protestations, every single helmet seller I’ve ever encountered has insisted I try on a size Small or Medium, and subsequently suffered the embarrassment of resting it like a fez upon my crown before mumbling something about children’s sizes and scurrying off to find something more realistic. I’m not imagining it. Continue reading →
For three weeks, the following visuals triggered a flash of pure rage in me: running shoes, technical fabrics, my Garmin, shorts, the gym, food with “energy” in its name, emails from the charity I’d run for, and anyone who was out running or might have just been running or was possibly just about to go running, or could have run at some point in their life. And Top Gear, but that may have been unrelated.
Most infuriating were those smug, leap-out-of-bed-types bounding across Primrose Hill regardless of the weather, too smitten with running to be even remotely bothered to judge those foolish enough not to have caught on to their miracle remedy for the crushing reality of adult life. What was their problem? Who the hell did they think they were? How on earth could I become one of them? Continue reading →