Waiting patiently for the off along with everyone else
I should come clean and admit that we were walking - I don't run, not even for buses, so I always turn up in walking shoes and make no pretence at athleticism - but that's OK, there's always a huge cohort of walkers. Tiny Small jogged a bit - she would have happily run the whole thing. I have no idea where she gets that from. At one point we met a lady in a wheelchair who was fighting her way over the bridge in Kings College, needing only the smallest assistance from many willing hands to get over the steep hump and across the rumpled up floor matting - the point is, anyone can do it (well, unless they're a man), and it is an event like no other - astonishingly emotional, supportive, and very worthwhile because it can only be the very rare, very fortunate person who hasn't lost someone they know and love to cancer, or know someone who is currently fighting it.
The route through Cambridge is beautiful - it's a lovely city anyway and when you are ambling along with 7500 women, children and the odd dog dressed in a pink tutu it's hard to beat it. We all had our faces painted and wore our medals with pride for most of the day. We're planning to do it again next year - will you?
The fence at the end where people pin their back signs - lists of the people they are racing to support, or in whose memory they have raced. It would take a stronger person than me to remain composed at the sight.
And in other news: frustratingly, my keyboard seems to be packing up one key at a time. The full stop is very unresponsive, and the d key is not much happier, which with my blog name is a bit of a pain ...