Run to the Beat of my Biscuits

Maritime Museum, Greenwich 

In case you didn't know.. 

This weekend I watched my best mates boyfriend, J-Man Jizzle* complete an amazing achievement - he ran the Nike Run to the Beat half marathon and we are all very very proud of him.

(*Not actual name. Name that I call him. Largely against his will)

He's training to run the London Marathon next year, and this race signifies the furthest he's ever ran so it's a huge deal.

Cheerleaders (although I think I was better AND I didn't have balloons!) 

Arms outstretched, J-Man at the 11 mile mark, only two to go! 

However, the day was not without its drama. The day was lovely and sunny, but we think the heat got to him because 150m before the end of the race, J started to slow and come to a stop. Even the encouraging screams from two old lady spectators couldn't help him. A random man (we're not sure whether it was a fellow competitor, a marshall or a member of the crowd) came to help him over the final finish line, before poor old J collapsed from heatstroke/exhaustion and had to be taken to the medical tent.

He is now fine, just needs to rest up and get lots of fluids, but it just goes to show what a huge effort it is to complete these things and how amazing it is that he crossed the line. I'm so impressed. Props. Massive props.

Greenwich Observatory, obvs

Love the smell of biscuits in the morning

Other than that dramz at the end of the race, the rest of the morning had been really fun. There's always a great atmosphere at these events - I'm a natural cheerleader of life in general, so I love that it's socially acceptable on such occasions to scream COME ON ALEXXXXX!!! in random stranger's faces. Not that I do that at any other time, OF COURSE.

I'd baked some Apple & Oatmeal cookies for our group to eat whilst we were waiting for J to appear at our vantage point at the foot of Greenwich Park, and they were just the ticket for a sunny autumnal mid-morning snack.

Leftovers

Of course I gave the majority of the cookies to J and his girlfriend (not that he could appreciate them at that point in his poorly state), but I kept a select few back for me. And they were just the ticket to soothe my aching hands (from clapping) and scratchy throat (from aforementioned stranger-face-screaming). I mean, really I worked JUST AS HARD. Right?!

No, I know: not right. I joke.

Well done J-Man Jizzle, Jam Master Jay. SO PROUD.