From Rumon

1:36 a.m. as I begin to type.  Too late.  Tired.

Another great day.

Saw off the Fowles then saw ourselves off, hiking through Ickenham to the tube, Picadilly line to Earl’s Green, District Line to Parson’s Green, across the green, press the buzzer and into the rabbit hole.  My mind has been expanding since then (do I need to eat the other half of the mushroom to make it stop?).

A fantastic, at times Carrollian, day with polar explorer Ben Saunders, sharing ideas, telling tales, watching video and eating.  Oh, the cuisine in London.  I need to leave just to get back to training and healthy living.  This marathoning is bad for the waistline!

We’re on the plane in 11 hours time.  Between then and now we may or may not run, will definitely drink some coffee and will once again navigate the tube system before jetting home, reappearing above ground to our better halves’ embraces.

What a trip.  So many stories.  But I first owe you one from the race.  If I stay awake, I shall endeavor to do put it down from seat 20f.  In order for that to be a possibility,  I must now lay down my head, imagining ice crystals on my duvet and polar bears outside the window, patrolling the high street.