'What, no oatmeal?'

No kidding, the oatmeal got factored into my pre-race visualisation so well that I really was expecting to be handed a warm bowl of porridge at the halfway feeding station!

The volunteers were first shocked, then fell about laughing when I spurned their cups of water and asked for oatmeal, so anyone behind me hoping for a drink was plumb out of luck.

On most all other fronts I got my wishes: no snow, no wind, a bright beautiful day. and last-minute entries from three former training partners, so I was in good company. And the time.. yes, under 21 minutes, so I am officially "pleased". Miffed at the same time, though, because as I raised a finishing straight gallop I could see Benji Durden's digital clock going 19:58, 19:59... I finished in 20:05. Don't you just hate it when that happens?

Just two places ahead of me was another 55-year-old I hadn't noticed, so I finished third in the 55-59-year-old age group, which sounds pretty good until you realise that we'd both finished some THREE MINUTES behind the incomparable 57-year-old Doug Greeley, who somehow managed a 17-something on a course with a mostly uphill first mile, an off-road section and some tight corners on the run in. It was also salutory to step "up" (?) an age group, as in the usual 50-59 age group, where I often get in the first three, this run got me just eighth.

I'd like to say it felt good to be racing again. Well... I guess it did, but only after the first mile and a quarter or so, when my body-mind seemed to finally concede that yes, we were racing and not feeling too bad, at which point I started reeling people in and began remembering how to red-line while staying marginally in control.

Up to that point I was chasing down what sounded like a large dog. Periodic yelps and howls from up front eventually resolved into the familiar sight and sound of my pal Dwight, a man who is not afraid to let those around him know he is having a good time. Dwight has a theory about identifying fast men -- ie threats -- on the start line: "You can tell 'em by their shoes", he says. He's six years older than me and much faster, but on the day was probably too much in coaching mode, keeping an eye on two of his runners, to focus on his own performance. Still he managed the unique feat of running a Personal Worst (his words) and still winning his age group.

What I'd forgotten about racing is the jitters. Even although this was a low-key test race, the habitual psyching-up system switched on this morning, so by mid warm-up I was feeling weak and sick. As usual it wore off once we were sent stampeding into the first corner, and then the "What am I doing here?" "Why am I doing this?" "Am I running fast enough?" routine starts up.

So, am I back from the "dead" -- which was, after all, the object of this test drive? I THINK so. I'm wondering where exactly I am going to find the other 3 minutes over 5k I need to be making progress again, but on balance, a 20:05 on that course, in January, with the serious work not done yet...OK, I'm happy.