I get them. Those nightmares that are so real, that you wake up still in them, and fight things that aren’t there, or panic outrageously.
Here’s an example: I half woke up not so long ago having slept awkwardly (I presume) on my left leg. I couldn’t feel it at all – and this had filtered through to my dream. I was tapping on my left foot, and in my dream, my foot was made of wood. So I woke up convinced that someone had sawn off my foot and replaced it with a wooden one. Which made a wooden tapping sound, like when you knock on, well, wood. I screamed the place down; Joe leapt out of bed and looked for burglars.
I also talk about spoons.
I’m not quite as bad as my friend Muz, who regularly fights with the wardrobe while restraining his wife.
But I digress. The night terrors to which I am currently referring are Grim Night Terrors. I’ve been persuaded by some “friends” and colleagues that it’s a good idea, and I’ll have a great time.
So on Saturday, February 4th, I’m running eight miles across boggy, muddy woodland, jumping through puddles and crawling under cargo nets. In the dark. For fun. And apparently people will be jumping out at us. Last time somebody jumped out at me, I threw my cat in the air and then cried.
It’s this, here.
The charity they support is Macmillan Cancer Support, which is worthy indeed. So I may be tapping people up for a bob or two.
Training is going well so far, although my left knee is – and this is a technical term – a bit shagged. However, I’m sure eight miles of mud will sort it right out. I’m actually quite looking forward to it; particularly the party afterwards; and the people I’m running with are a good bunch really (despite the peer pressure) so it should be amusing. I’ll post some pictures for people to point, and mock, and laugh.