Daily Archives: March 11, 2009

Done. Ish.

A hopeless day at work got worse at 5.15 when I was called to have a look at a door on the handed over building that wouldn’t close or lock. And after 10.5 hours already on site, I didn’t need that. Still, I found a few tools kicking around the drawers, bodged some things (well, it transpires the idiot window fitters have partly dis-assembled it in an effort to repair it, then walked away. Mongs.), fiddled the mag-lock and got it shut and (possibly…) secure. All of which wasn’t putting me in the mood for 8 miles.

So, late, late, later, I found myself getting changed wondering what run i’d find the enthusiasm for. And it was flat. My left shin has been sore over the day, but a bandage seemed to have sorted it, so I also decided it was going to be fast. Not race fast, I don’t want to hurt myself unnecessarily, but i’m bored with marathon pace. And it was meant to be a pace run, so I could justify it.

I didn’t enjoy the girl next door taking the piss out of my running attire (justified, but harsh!), but my Garmin got a signal quickly, so I set off for the sea. Promising my distance would be shorter if I was faster. Well, I did want to get home.

So. Mile by mile: 7.39, 7.50, 7.36, 7.42, 7.27, 7.36, 7.30. And 0.18 miles to ease down back to the office. The 7.50 was a conscious effort to try and convince myself I wouldn’t make 8 miles at that pace. In truth, I would have done easily (it felt an effortless run. Clearly wasn’t, but felt it) and the pace reflects it, but my yearning for home was too strong. It’s now bed-time, i’m knackered, so must go.

I’ll massage the left shin a load, am applying ointment to my left toe more than I think may be healthy in an effort to relieve some pain, but it’s not enough to cause concern until after the end of April. Mind you, Stelling Minnis (the best 10k in the world, ever) is 3 weeks later, so maybe it’ll wait until then.

Must bake mince pies on Friday evening, or i’ll be out on Sunday.  And Cathy will steal my mincemeat if it’s not in pastry by the time she comes over, so Friday it must be.

Slow run tomorrow. Promise.

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