I’ve been growing frustrated at the small runs, low mileage, high frequency demanded by my pathetic legs and Juneathon, so promised today would be the change.
Despite the early start needed to get to the far side of the M25 for a temporary works course, I was feeling confident. The event started early, finished early, gave a good excuse to rib a director for showing us Engineering porn (well, that’s what I took the piss out of him for, anyway – what else do you call a time frame edit of the placement of the new bridge over Liverpool Street station, which then flows into a slightly quicker version, then flows into a normal time highlight version, zooming in on some bolt clusters along the way to get the boffins’ juices really flowing? Honestly, it was disgusting! I felt it my duty to have a word. After last week’s efforts (only three important people left to wind up and i’ll have achieved the full house…), I wonder how long i’ll have a job for?) but meant I got home an hour earlier than usual. Happy running.
So I got straight out of the car, put on some shorts and the trusty Sauconys made a drink and left. Now, easing my way down the hill, the left shin was letting me know it was tight. After feeling like it had all the energy in the world while sitting down all day, too. The git. Still once onto the back lane, watching rabbits took my mind off it, I stopped to loosen my right lace at the halfway mark, started off and remembered it hurt. So took to the grass verge, lengthened my stride, set for home and realised with 1/4 miles to go that it hurt less than my right calf and knee now were. I think i’m about 300 years old, effective age, and it’s not fair. Been stretching for the last 3 odd hours now and things feel easier, but hey, i’ll wait for the morning. It feels good to have done a longer run at last this month.
So, 5.4 miles (just under 45 minutes for the time so close to my personal worst pace!). 324 cars.