And so it was a strange day.
Knowing I had a 17 mile outing coming up made me all out of sorts for the latter part of the week, I think.
I sacked off the Thursday run owing to a lack of enthusiasm to get soaked again – it poured down from about 4.45 until Friday morning and, to be honest, marathon or no I simply couldn’t be arsed with it again. Friday saw me jog to the shop for a pint of milk and dread the forecast for today and the big run and motorbike MOT.
And last night, to cap it all, I fell asleep in the chair approximately 3 seconds before I was going to get up and go to bed. Oops.
Still, an early rise this morning (well, for a Saturday it was early) saw breakfast done and me actually get out of the door before 9 o’clock. I saw a runner in the rain at 7.30 and thought better of it. I simply used the time in between for toast (2 slices), Orbana, banana, cereal, orange and tea. And coffee.
I planned a route to avoid the worst of the wind, heading into it while fresh, then gaining shelter from the local forest. It basically started towards and through Stubbs Cross, on to and through Shadoxhurst, through Orlestone Forest towards Hamstreet, across below Bromley Green, turning short of Aldington towards Mersham, looping back past Cheeseman’s Green and home. Simple.
And it all went nicely until about 9 miles when the rain started. Lightly at first but by the time I was 2 miles short of Mersham, it was hammering down. I had no raincoat and was feeling a bit depressed. My route around, instead of through, the village added misery in having to cross two rivers over the road, resulting in soaking feet to match my top and little cheer was had avoiding a roadworks gang blocking the road for tarmac repairs. They were repairing the most minor road I know while potholes abound on major routes throughout the area. Very odd.
And about here, I plumbed the depths of the run’s misery before things picked up a bit. Half a mile of exposed headwind and rain gave way to a really sheltered few corners where I realised my legs were feeling ok and I might actually make it home in one piece. Hope soon disappeared again, but not long after I turned into the final two mile stretch towards home, which was a relief for sure.
Everything hurts, including the top of my right foot (played up after Wednesday and started aching at 7 miles today), but no more than i’d expect after 17 miles. As Mark pointed out on Facebook – if it wasn’t hard, it wouldn’t be a marathon.
Then this afternoon, the bike flew through the MOT having surprisingly got there in the dry, only to fail to start afterwards. Very strange after starting on the button before I left and then idling prefectly after it got going. I’ll book it in for a service and see if that helps. If not i’ll have to get handy with some tools and have a play myself. Least now it’s sorted I can go for a thrash when things become stressful. Which I think they might in the coming weeks.
Still, it’s only Saturday. Loads to do tomorrow including plans for conservatory floor starting and all sorts. Should be good.