Penguin moved too fast for me

There are many tales to be told about last Sunday’s Bath half-marathon. On the plus side, there was the great Australian outside-half, Michael Lynagh, who at 11 o’clock swore that his chronic back complaint made it impossible for him to take part, and who at 1pm was hurtling down the finishing straight. He promptly announced he’d loved it so much he wanted to set up a running club.

On the flip side, there were rumours of a former England star stopping off en route at a friend’s house for some chocolate biscuits, and then waiting an hour for the runners to come past again before rejoining the race.

Whatever the truth of that, a huge amount of money was raised for CRY, a charity researching cardiac problems in young people, and to see the mammoth Paul Ackford storm home in under two hours was one of the athletic sights of the year.

I spent most of Sunday morning following a man who had emblazoned on the back of his running vest ‘helping the world’s rarest penguin’. But to do what? Snowboard? Give up smoking? I’m sure the answer was on the front of the T-shirt, but at eight miles, this penguin picked up the pace and disappeared into the distance. So sadly, we will never know.