One thing was on my mind upon going to bed last night and that was my failure to run. It was a good day, but with my plans for the rest of the week, my three run plan is looking shady if the weather’s fine tomorrow and I spend the day at the parachute club.
So this morning, I got up, ate, hacked up some ivy from the neighbouring fence ready for a trip to the dump, had a second beverage and a quick paper read (ah, the way I spoil myself on holiday!) then set out for a lope.
The road was a bit busy, so I crossed almost as soon as I left the drive, then spotted a dad with his three daughters and son, all on bikes, all waiting to cross the road on their bikes, all evidently off for a game of tennis. So after i’d got about half way to them, I was planning where i’d stop to let them see and cross…when the doting father gave his boy the all clear to go and all I could hear was a) squealing tyres and b) the dad calling his first (bravest?) daughter back who’d followed her brother away. And yes, the squealing tyres were from a locked-up transit trying to miss his son. I very quickly guessed a few things. 1) He encouraged his son to go when he did because he wanted to kill him. 2) He called back his daughter because he didn’t want her to go the same way. Or certainly not at the same time. 3) He doesn’t quite get the way roads work, or he’d take his family half way down the hill to allow an easier start, more chance to see vehicles and thus extend plenty of lives…not least the van driver’s tyres. It was great. Especially the boy crying instantly he stopped on the path, asking his dad why did you try to kill me with broken, sobbing speech! None of the girls showed a hint of surprise, so I guess it’s a reasonably frequent event as family outings go.
Still, it took my mind off the heat of the run. Which reminds me why I stop running in the summer, usually. Man, it was cloudy, breezy and not as warm as it should be, but just over half way, I was overheating and feeling so sluggish I wanted it to be over. Good job I had plenty of drink. Still, 5.4 miles, 42.10 with no pace increase in the end mile, so not too bad.
Followed by the aforementioned trip to the dump, a swift banana purchase, a thrash on the bike, a clean of the bike and here I am. The mountain bike will be abused this evening, just in the local car park for some stunts practice (probably more like re-learning…it feels aeons since last time), then an early night – the weather looks good for jumping tomorrow and I want to be fresh.
5.4 miles. 252 cars. One family incident. A holiday that’s looking good.