Dearest Pops
My Dad is a fell runner and although he isn't the best, he's been doing it for so long he now has the fancy footwork of a mountain goat. I'd imagine he could tap-dance round the Giant's Causeway if so called upon.

One week he'd been too busy at work to hit the hills so he decided to give the new office gym a go. This was little more than a rowing machine, weights bench and treadmill in a spare room and there was certainly no one on hand to show him how it all worked. My Dad thought that he'd stick with what he knew and went for the running machine.

He arrived home later that evening with multiple injuries having lost his footing, been jettisoned off the treadmill and hitting the wall and floor on the way down.

Now he's over 60 he uses his pensioner's bus pass to take him to some god-forsaken hilly clime for free, then run the 10 miles back home. I guess he thinks it's safer.
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 15:45, Reply)