I must have inspired my eighteen year old son in some way because on Monday he asked if I wanted to go out for a run with him. Now, I was still recovering from the small matter of 55 miles on Saturday, but I didn’t want to miss a rare chance to go out running with him, so we went out for a slowish 3 miles. He was talking about maybe doing a marathon next year and I said I would help him train if he didn’t mind being seen in my company.
Tonight I came in after a short run at a slowish pace which was all I wanted since I’m still in recovery mode, and I got a phone call about 20 past 7.
G: “Hi, it’s me. I just thought I would let you know where I was so you wouldn’t worry”.
Ma (now worried, he’s never bothered before) : “So where are you then?”
G (sounding a bit breathless): “Near Ratho, I’ve just run here and I’m on my way back”.
Ma (thinking my hearing isn’t what it used to be): “Did you say Ratho? It’s about 6 miles … and it’s dark”
G : “I’ve got a head torch, I think I’ll be about an hour before I get home”
Ma : “You’re running back from Ratho … in the dark … when you’ve never run that far before. What on earth were you thinking, that’s just crazy!”
(then relenting a bit … he is my favourite son … actually he’s my only son)
“Do you want one of us to come and meet you?”
G : “No, it’s OK, I’ll be OK …it would be nice if you did though”.
So Bill and I changed back into running gear (we had only just changed out of it), grabbed headtorches, phones and a spare thermal top and headed out along the canal towards Ratho. Now the last time I was on the towpath in the dark was Saturday night, and I hadn’t really planned to repeat the experience quite so soon; nor had I planned a second run tonight but I felt partly responsible. After all half his genes come from me (the rest are Bill’s but that was never going to endow him with much sense either).
We finally saw him just coming under the Calder Road Bridge, in a sleeveless vest, barely a glimmer shining from his headtorch, completely knackered, no food, water or bus fare and proclaiming he hadn’t meant to go as far as Ratho. I had a job finding a big enough Compeed to cover the blister on his foot and he fell asleep almost as soon as he’d swallowed the last bite of dinner.
He says he’ll never do that again … but then we’ve all said that before; I think he has the makings of an ultra runner 
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