I don’t really know where to start, possibly owing to the fact i’m writing this remotely from an odd machine, with a worn out keyboard that has no letters left on it and has oddly grooved keys where countless nail taps have worn them away. It feels like a weird funfair ride, but it’s definitely neither fun nor fair.
Still, i’m at least blogging, which must mean something went right just to make it this far.
A good night’s sleep developed into a good drive to work, a repaired door mirror, a last gasp present purchase, an early lock up and then to home. Whereupon I bumped into the neighbour on the doorstep, discussed plans and running and that, then went in to load the car for the next couple of days, but got disturbed by a welcome call from Andy which accelerated my running plan to immediate to enable a swift shower before Andy came around, with a bit of time before leaving for a cup of tea and a chat, thus missing none of my ideals.
Which was only tempered by realising i’d left all my running kit at work. Ah, the joy of being stupid. Still, i’ve got my race trainers (the ones that’ll have fewer miles on them just for the race) and loads of odd shorts and stuff, so digging out some tramp like get-up wasn’t too much of a chore, and off I set.
Intending a slowish 5 miler, I just set off comfortably, the run was eventless except for the pace which translated into an easy 8min 30ish speed, so now i’m 2 days into the training plan, no runs missed, the legs feeling fresh and the prospect of an easy 3 miles tomorrow morning.
I’m hoping to take Jogblog aroung the block and beat her pb for her three mile route in the process, so hopefully there’ll be something amusing to read from her as a result but I don’t want to know the consequences if it goes wrong…nothing like a bit of pressure, eh?
Right, i’m off to drink Gary’s left over cider. An athlete needs fuel and I am about to run out of cakes, after all! And after just the one mince pie for morning tea, I don’t want to under fuel, now do I?