- Yeah, first mile. Just up to Quennevais. To the swimming pool. Bit up and down, to be honest. A shitty mile to start with but what can you fucking do, huh? It’s only a mile, I’d walk that far.
- Next one gets to the golf course. On the Railway Walk. Pretty much all uphill but I know the next mile levels off. Just get this fucking hill out of the way and don’t even think about how far there is to go. I’ll be very surprised if I don’t bottle out.
- This mile levels off. I just said that. Are you deaf? It levels off. Goes downhill if anything. Takes me to the big flat stone at Corbiere. Three miles. Jesus, I wouldn’t walk three miles. Not unless I had to. Three miles is a long fucking way when you think about it. I mean, you’re travelling three miles and you wanna be driving there. Some people take the bus, not me though. I hate the bus.
- Bang! Suddenly I’ve done four. That was okay. Yeah, this mile just goes. You know, it goes. I guess because it’s down the hill and around that fucking ankle breaking headland. Shit to take your mind off running. Hardly fucking moving. Been running for ages and I’m only here. Fuck. Ah well, Five Mile Road next.
- La Braye Cafe. That’s five miles. On the Five Mile Road. Feel okay but fuck’s sake. I mean, done five miles now. Can’t bail out now. Well, I could sneak across the sand dunes, I guess, but I can’t just turn back and go the way I came. That would be ten miles! Fuck that. Ten fucking miles. I’ve only done five!
- Still on the Five Mile Road.
- Still on the Fucking Five Fucking Mile Shitty Fucking Road does this fucking thing ever fucking end? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Calf is sore. If it goes now… oh man
- I was going to just turn back at the end of the Five but fuck that, I’d go fucking crazy if I had to run back along there again. I’m going up the hill. I’m half way up Hydrangea Avenue.
- That hill wasn’t too bad. I enjoyed that. And now I’m at the shops at St Ouen and that fucking van nearly hit me. Nice driving, bellend. Reckon ten miles will be… St Mary’s Church!
- Nope, it was The Windmill. Ten miles done. How far if I go to Carrefour Selous? Reckon that’s thirteen miles. I’ll head for there.
- That mile went quick. Still in St Mary.
- Hmm, quite near Carrefour Selous and mile twelve hasn’t bleeped. That could fuck absolutely everything. Two miles from The Gunsite… Wanna do fifteen miles so… No, this will be okay if twelve miles is at the Carrefour Selous. It is! Fucking thing bleeped!
- Headwind bullshit fucking bollocks legs hurt. Everything aches a bit and this road is fucking shit.
- What’s the point? Tell me what’s the fucking point? What the fuck am I doing? I think I’ve lost my goddamn fucking mind. I mean. Fuck.
- Shit. Lorry. I’m dead. Could cross the road? Nope. But I started. Lorry stopped. I look like a twat. Get the fuck past me you stupid lorry because I’m at Sandybrook. Not far now. Not far now. Not far now. Bit over two miles to go. Last mile is a fucking cocksucker. Up the Railway walk and then up Mont Nicolle. And it’s a headwind.
- On the front. Don’t feel too bad actually. Getting my second wind. And I could walk home from here, If I had to. Pressure’s off. I’m not on trial here. You can’t handle the truth.
- Feel good! This is weird. Yeah, went past those cyclists on the Railway walk. Feel okay. Mont Nicolle Hill wasn’t too bad! Finished. Cool. I’m a fucking superhero.
Hey, Fiona, guess how far I just ran!
What? I was only two hours. Guess again, serious.
Oh fuck off.