Terry the Train’s out and about now that it’s summer. You know? Terry! The stupid train truck that travels along the front where I run. I saw him this morning. As I was approaching town he passed me laden with French. When he passed me I still had a couple of hundred metres until I turned by which time Terry was going to be, what? Nearly a kilometre ahead of me. Sure he’d slow down passing Lilly Langtry’s house but I was never going to catch him on the way back, not with that sort of head start.
Yeah, I fucking caught him. He must’ve been held up badly but I caught him at La Haule. I’d seen I was closing on him for a while but never did I think I’d catch him.
Don’t know why I wanted to catch it, really. Oh wow, you caught a van that looks like a train because it was held up? Aren’t you great! How could I get anything out of that? I don’t know.
But I know when I saw I was catching up on the train I thought it’d be cool if I did catch the train. A goal, I guess. At the end of the day I can look back and know I’ve achieved something. Some small made-up victory. My leg was sore but I was going at a fair lick. 6:30min/mile and at La Haule Terry has to pull off the cycle track and onto the road for the last bit. Terry can’t drive on the cycle track for the last bit, it’s against the law. So I caught up with him. He was on the road and I was on the cycle track but unfortunately we were both travelling at identical velocities and so I did the last bit with three carriages (for Terry pulls three carriages) of French holiday-makers shouting encouragement at me. I tried not to let the strain show on my face and I felt like a dickhead.