Little steps

[Charliecat5]

It's the little steps that count isn't it?

I've just prised myself off my hotel bed and fetched my running bag from the car. All I've got to do now is set the alarm for 6:30, wake up, put shorts, t-shirt and shoes on and head out into the morning in a strange new part of the world (Rutland). Oh, and not drink too much tonight with my new Spanish friends. It's doable isn't it?

I GOT OFF MY BED DIDN'T I? IT'S A START!

Adelante y hacia arriba

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

This is the mental anguish we all go through: drink too much with friends, or hold back so I can go running at an obscene hour of the morning? And to add to the torment you're in Rutland. In a nice hotel suite. Hmm.

Put your psychoanalyst on danger money, Charlie.

[marathondan]

Ah, Ruddles county...

[glaconman]

Ruddles County indeed. My Mum used to have this in the house when I was a kid. In very short, fat bottles. I must have had a taste at some stage. It's all her fault.

[marathondan]

Yes I too remember the little bottles from the early 90s, while it was still brewed in the county (although the county didn't exist at the time). It doesn't taste the same in cans (plus it's now brewed with different water, i.e. really a different beer).

As you were, Charlie. How was the run?

[Charliecat5]

You know that sinking feeling when 2 miles into a 3 mile run you are still running downhill... that...

And the sense of doom was made all the worse when having regained the altitude, the route tumbled downwards so I had to do it all again to get back to the hotel.

Was that last pint worth it last night... should I have stayed up until past the witching hour chatting and eating cheese. OF COURSE I SHOULD HAVE! The run was just the tonic this morning and good to know my legs are still working after the weekends shenanigans. 3 miles in a 9 min/mile pace, surprising hills and the fact I didn't get lost is a result in my book.

Onwards, but perhaps a little less upwards.

[Charliecat5]

Put your psychoanalyst on danger money, Charlie.

My psychoanalysts is Sweder. I know! But he's the only one I could find who takes pints of badger as payment.

[Charliecat5]

So, my relentless journey this week now takes me to the Premier Inn on the corner of the A14 and A1... this is living at its best. As I don't fancy running up the A1 tomorrow morning I have had a quick look at Google Maps and found a few tracks that start behind my picturesque industrial park and head out across what I hope is farmland and through some woods.

Wish me well my friends... I may be lost for ever.

[Sweder]

Sounds exciting. I've just checked in to a hotel behind Geneva airport. There are fields, and small streets, and I did pack my running gear. There are also some mighty fuck-off mountains just behind us. Big buggers, with snow on top, about a mile high. I'll be mostly giving those a miss.

Well. As I sit here typing some European scruffs have joined me on my perch and ordered pints of Erdinger.
Weissbier, you say? Be rude not too ...

[Charliecat5]

There are also some mighty fuck-off mountains just behind us. Big buggers, with snow on top, about a mile high. I'll be mostly giving those a miss.

You've got to get up those mountains. You don't have to go all the way to the top... Just to the snow line. What are you, a man or a mouse?

Talking of mice, having done a reccy this evening, my morning run is called off... I cannot find any access to those tracks so have decided to wait until I return home to my beloved Downs on Saturday.

Note to self... Try harder to chose hotels with running options.

[Charliecat5]

They don't go together do they... alcohol and running?

But the dilemma is that I need the alcohol to numb the pain of running and the running to numb the pain of alcohol.