Bad day, good run.

Work. Pah, i’ll leave it there, shall I? Yep. It sucked.

Still, having run out of time this afternoon, it was with some frustration that I set out at half five with the intention of doing a slow 6.2 miles on the hills. My foot has started to feel good then bad in turns at the moment and today it was like a switch between the two, but I set off steadily and kept slow around the downhill left corner that tends to hurt it early on in the runs and all felt fine.

But I had no real energy, so slogged up to the roundabout then pushed on up the hill to Sainsburys. Not another runner was encountered. Just masses of dogshit. Well, it is Hastings. The last place that residents are encouraged to let their dogs go on the path, presumably to save the lawnmowers from a laundry bill. A man with a wildly flailing leg and special boot cheered me up – not in a nasty sense, just in the thought that as bad as the run felt, at least I am able to decide to run and even if I don’t enjoy it, at least I can choose to stop instead of having no option to start. But I still felt slow at the halfway point, so as I turned for home, I began to sing. Unfortunately, Donna Summer isn’t the best song to get into your head, even if it is the Rollo remix, but stuck it got. And I think that’s possibly how I completed the run.

So. The run was good but unfulfilling (6.2 miles, 51.30). My choice of run song was shocking. My blog is as dull as ditchwater. I still have 108 cars to count.

But tomorrow I shall concentrate mainly on throwing myself from planes and landing in the correct field in an orderly fashion. Followed by visiting Cathy for an evening of magnificence. And then i’ll be happy.

Oh, and I need a haircut.

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