Day 221 Wednesday 8th August 8 miles : miles to date 1443.6 Hurrah, the legs starting working today on the second half of what was a distinctly two half traiing run, covering eight miles in 55:28. I was inspired to run by three people today. Firstly Mo Farah, who ran a very easy five thousand in roughly a mile quicker than I can run. My mate Philip Horan who despite being a tad slower than Mo, was up at 5am this morning to get a run in before work. And finally, some long haired young bloke who had the audacity to overtake me at around six and a half miles when I was running at sub seven minute mile pace. The cheek of him. After last nights massioofff chinese take away for Meg's birthday, my swollen belly strained the belt I tad too much. I watched Mo and the others just cruise in and read Phils post earlier, so thought I would stretch the legs and do an eight at seven minute mile pace. The first three miles were fine and bang on time, but I then hit a second hill and just struggled, to the point I almost stopped to walk. The belly really is quite uncomfortable and I slowed to around a 7:25 pace. I went out four miles on a road one way, turned and came back. At the turn I was well over twenty eight minutes and slowing all the way to that point. I then noticed that I had been running up an incline and as the road declined, I recovered and rather surprisingly I started to feel comfortable and picked the pace back up. At the mid six point I could see a chap in front and could tell he was probably running around 7.30 pace. I was about 6.50 minute pace, so I couldn't blast past him. I was happy just to do my thing but he stopped to sort out his shoe and I had to go past. I tried to chill out to Bruce on the long play i-pod thingy machine and keep my form and pace. A short while later, the young whipper snapper had the temerity to run past me and then settle in around fifteen feet in front. No way was I having that, so I closed and ran around ten feet behind him for at least half a mile actually feeling very good despite the pace being around 6.45. If you are going to go past me, at least blow me out but don't settle in front like a numpty. I suspect he thought I was trying to race him and didn't think an old bloke like me could keep up with him. I then did something that makes me feel like a plonker, but also makes me laugh. In the last half mile, I did blast past him, running faster and faster until I was around the 5.30 mark and dreaming I was running like Mo. The only difference is that Mo blasts every mile much quicker and this was my last sprint. Blew out the young, long haired whipper snapper though. I love testosterone which rarely kicks in at my age.