There are days when my run doesn't cross anyone else's path; I don't see another soul, despite me running through numerous residential areas, I run into no one. Yes, I can see people in their cars and in their houses and flats but I don't actually pass anyone else in the street.
Then there are the other days when I pass so many people; it's as if all Cardiff's residents have come out for an evening stroll, en masse. I see people returning from work, couples out for a walk, people nipping to the shops and even other runners.
Today was one of those other days. It seemed that everyone had timed their outing for my benefit. It was like a film set where there's a tracking shot of the hero (me) walking down the street whilst neighbours, played by a hoard of extras, go about their business in the background.
And what a well groomed and handsome lot my extras proved to be this evening: the runner in the well fitting shorts doing some stretches before setting off, the labourer in a t shirt who swaggered toward me over the bridge and the guy in the suit who smiled when he caught me stealing a look at him after I'd passed.
Tonight there were many opportunities for panting, had I not already been panting quite hard anyway.
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