On Tuesday 22nd March 2016 three coordinated suicide bombings occurred in Brussels. Guess where I was for the first time? Yep, Brussels. And guess what I was doing? Yep, running.

So as you probably know by now I use running as my way of getting to know somewhere and see more in a shorter period of time, especially if I’m on a work tri – which I was on this occasion. I was only scheduled to stay one night in Brussels so I decided a quick early morning sight seeing run would be the only way to see the city since I arrived late at night and was leaving the following afternoon.

It’s a lovely city to run in – all the main sights are very close together and there are some fabulous parks in the centre too. The streets were pretty quiet and that crisp morning in March it was perfect running weather; I ran around the Palace of Justice, up to the impressive Notre Dame church, past the Royal Palace and into and around the relaxing Brussels Park. All the while enjoying the views, the pretty old fashioned cobbled streets and the general feeling of calm compared to London rush hour.

On returning to my hotel room the feeling of calm was quickly replaced by feeling sick to the stomach when I turned on BBC World. It’s weird though, when you’re in a different country watching a different news channel from normal you don’t have the same perspective. Is it really a big thing? Is BBC news at home reporting this live or is it just the World service? I didn’t have any messages of concern on my phone so I went downstairs  and merrily stuffed myself on the all you can eat breakfast buffet (you gotta run for a reason folks).

Needless to say chaos ensued after breakfast as when I was in a taxi to work the third bomb went off less than a mile from me and people in the UK started waking up to the news. The phones went down and most people from my company started madly trying to get out – taking taxis to airports in the Netherlands and generally joining the mass hysteria, which us Brits are quite good at.

I decided to stay put for another night. To me, going to an airport seemed mad since the first two bombs were at Brussels airport and the second at a train station. I thought the people trying to desperately get a flight out were bonkers and no doubt they thought I was bonkers for staying. Ah well, it was all an experience. I lived to tell another running tale.