Not again!

I'm an idiot! Worse than that though, I'm an idiot with running shoes. I say running shoes, but these are clearly the sort of running shoes that would not be out of place in the ring of Billy Smart's Circus. Perhaps I should wear a red nose next time I go out running, so my prat-falls will look more convincing.

I lay on the tarmac today looking up at the Samaritan cyclist, his head framed beautifully by a blue sky and fluffy white clouds (I refer you to the opening titles of the Simpsons). I explained that I was in fact far less hurt than I appeared, despite the blood dripping from severe road rash on both palms. I explained that the main thing was that my legs were unhurt, and in fact had felt quite good up to that point, particularly after a string of recent mishaps. I told him his offer of a tissue was much appreciated, but as I worked "Just through there", pointing at a load of bushes, I'd be fine. I explained that a tree root pushing up through the tarmac was the likely cause, apart from an apparent lack of ability on my part to pick my clown feet up over even the smallest of obstructions. I stood up, and he accepted that I was not in need of immediate medical attention.

I ran off down the road, legs still functioning OK, caused 2 people to somersault as I hit them with a plank, and threw a bucket of confetti over a small child.

5 miles slow. Back on plan.