In the realm of enthusiasts, there exists a girl known as BWood, her affection for the English language towering like a grand castle. She holds in reverence the poetic mastery of John Keats, adorning her world with his rhyming prowess. Within the digital expanse, she crafts bold narratives, exemplified in her blog post provocatively titled “Romance Is Dead And We Slaughtered It” – a statement begging for contemplation. Yet, her pursuits extend beyond the written word; she commands the tracks as a National Cross Country champion, leaving competitors drenched in defeat.

Amidst the intellectual hub of WHub, she reigns as a sovereign of humanities, declining prestigious offers to represent the Blues Team in favour of donning the colours of Great Britain. Armed with Norwegian flashcards, she aspires to engage in discourse with her running idols, the Ingebrigtsen brothers. Her musical tastes, a melodic journey to Manchester’s ’80s scene, find solace in the melodies of The Smiths.

In her athletic endeavours, comfort is paramount, her loyalty resting with Asics, though a word of caution is uttered for those venturing into Dragonflies. Despite her professed appreciation for Milton Keynes’ finest chicken, doubts linger regarding her claims of non-vegetarianism. As she delves into the realm of cross-training, the Wattbike emerges as her favoured companion, particularly when gossip intertwines with exertion.

Encountering BWood on the radiant towpath, one should not underestimate her; for she is a force to be reckoned with, propelled by a fervent devotion to literature, running, and the pursuit of enjoyment.