Giddy with excitement

BACK in the old routine after the great reunion weekend during which I acquired a whole new identity and danced with a Cornishman, I returned to speed training tonight.
Speed is relative, remember. What is eyeballs-out, lycra-singeing fast to me might just be a jog to you.
In fact it has been three weeks since I tested my speed skills as it was the Prague trip the week before. Anyway, those are my excuses and I am sticking to them.
Alan took us across to the Goodrington cliff walk for some lamp-post repetitions, up and down the 160-metre length of the prom, but we started with the lung-busting loop up to the top of the cliff walk and down the other side, just as a kind of a loosener. Cheers then, Alan.
Everton Keith stormed off at the front of the fast group up the steep hill, with a chasing trio of me, Alan and the willowy Michelle pulling away from the rest. Then Everton Keith took the speed merchants completely the wrong way when they got to the top, leaving the chasing trio in front as we pelted back down the slope.
I was giddy with excitement. So rarely do I feature near the front of any kind of competitive run that in my mind I was there on the podium collecting at least a bronze. I was busy preparing my trackside interview patter for the man from the BBC who is the best friend of all the athletes when Everton Keith shattered my dreams by bursting out from the steps and hammering through to deprive me of my third place. I held off the rest of the recovering fast boys to trail in fourth, but my moment of glory was gone.
Later, in the warm-down relays the three-man team which featured Everton Keith, Paul C and me was actually leading for the first few legs in the gathering darkness down on the prom, but Michelle did me again and hurtled through to give her team victory.
It's not competitive, this Tuesday night speed work, you understand. Not competitive at all...