So, another day at work arrived with a drive to get there through the lowest temperature my car thermometer has recorded. Leaving home to minus 7 degrees, it was no surprise that as I went through Frittenden (neighbouring village and always a degree cooler), the thermometer dropped to minus 9 degrees. Minus 9! Fuck. I know the car won’t have the most accurate reading in the world, but in the relative scheme of things, that’s cold.
So I gingerly plodded around the lanes hoping to avoid a meeting with ditches, telegraph poles and the like and arrived in Hastings, the temperature rising to minus 5 through Hawkhurst, but otherwise staying rooted to the 6’s and 7’s below. Cold. Even the usually balmy Hastings still showed minus 1 in the car park.
Still, the working day was cut short when the boys went home early, so I bought some new socks, did the “crikey, the old ones really are grey” comparison as is, I believe, the law, introduced my Garmin to some new satellite coordinates, and got into more clothes than seems right for a run.
Still, my calves were joined in a chorus of pain by my shins yesterday, so last night I treated them to a liberal coating of Pernaton Gel (a deep heat type thing given as a sample by a friendly chemist supplier and good for joint pains and stuff), which had the effect of making them feel like new. Yep, totally like new. Amazing. I’ll be using it again. Lots. And the upshot of the pain is me trying to keep things warm so I don’t stiffen, cramp and sprain anything. So, my tights were covered by my mountain trousers, off I set with the little virtual partner aiming for 8.30’s and the seafront arrived to a hoard of shoppers.
It was packed. All very well, apart from me trying to run amongst them, and at what turned out to be a horribly slow pace for a short 3 miles. It was a battle to stay somewhere near the little man and on completion I was 1.03 ahead, meaning 8.03 miles according to the summary, which I still can’t get to copy onto here, so you’ll have to believe me. I’d have thought it should be 8.09, but there you go – I always was shit at maths.
I really am going to try to slow myself a bit, but if I can’t I really don’t know how the proper long weeks are going to pan out. Sunday seemed and was ok, so maybe I just need to get my head around being out for a long time. It’ll work, i’m sure, but there really is no way i’m going to train for a sub 3.30 marathon time, so I need to forget it. Soon.
And my mince pie for the day was very nice, thank you.
Tomorrow will be a rush with an early 5 miler, a mountain bike ride with the blokes i’ve been to the Alps with a few times, a trip to London and possibly no time to blog. Still, there’ll always be New Years’ Day to catch up.