John wasn't so sure. Wayne was on his sixth pint of Guinness, perhaps not ideal preparation for the half marathon tomorrow and he'd only done two pathetic practice runs.
After three miles, under a warm sun, Wayne was struggling and when a woman who must have been in her seventies overtook him he panted even more.
Wayne stared up at a bright light. It was not the sun.
"You've had a heart attack Mr Bradley," announced the doctor.