Running Nirvana and Om...elette.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Running Nirvana and Om...elette.

It's a gorgeous, sunny morning; about 8 a.m. post-run and with the joy of no work commitments ahead of me until tomorrow. I'm in the kitchen about to feast on a well-earned breakfast. I look at the small mountain of grated cheese, diced ham, parsley and tarragon (home-grown, of course) and a beautiful, thinly sliced mushroom that I'd piled onto the omelette in the pan, and wonder how I am going to fold the unencumbered half of it over the Matterhorn of delicacy awaiting its blanket. However, in the happiness that is that post-run euphoria where everything seems to just work out fine, the spatula lifts the omelette easily over itself and covers the ham, cheese, herb and mushroom exquisiteness with ease. Another minute and it's done. Usually, forty seconds would suffice, but I'd overloaded it in my exuberance and so added the extra seconds, and lo, it is wonderful, worthy of any bistro you might find on Paris's Rue de Rivoli, or so it seems to me in my runner's high.

I'd not planned to resurrect my running seriously until next week when I begin three weeks of much-needed annual leave, but today was the running of the Almeria Medio Maraton, and my not being there again this year somewhat got the better of me. And so I donned my 2017 Almeria finisher's shirt and pounded out a serious run, the first such earnest effort in several weeks; oh, I'd jogged a little here and there in the interim, but this was the first time I had run with the intention of completing a set distance at a decent pace, otherwise known as proper, actual running. This was achieved (albeit a modest 7 kilometres), and the resultant flood of endorphins and the general feeling of dizzying excellence has left me shaking my head in disbelief that I let this running habit decline at all.

Anyway, I've one more week of early starts, two nights shifts and then I have a blissful three weeks of regular sleep, freedom from work, and no plans other than to take the opportunity to properly kick start my running campaign again. The objective is simply to once more to become that half-marathon-ready runner, and more importantly, experience all the health benefits that readiness brings.

And I might make a few more omelettes. Petit-déjeuner, n'importe qui?

[Charliecat5]

Running Nirvana and Om...elette.

It's a gorgeous, sunny morning; about 8 a.m. post-run and with the joy of no work commitments ahead of me until tomorrow. I'm in the kitchen about to feast on a well-earned breakfast. I look at the small mountain of grated cheese, diced ham, parsley and tarragon (home-grown, of course) and a beautiful, thinly sliced mushroom that I'd piled onto the omelette in the pan, and wonder how I am going to fold the unencumbered half of it over the Matterhorn of delicacy awaiting its blanket. However, in the happiness that is that post-run euphoria where everything seems to just work out fine, the spatula lifts the omelette easily over itself and covers the ham, cheese, herb and mushroom exquisiteness with ease. Another minute and it's done. Usually, forty seconds would suffice, but I'd overloaded it in my exuberance and so added the extra seconds, and lo, it is wonderful, worthy of any bistro you might find on Paris's Rue de Rivoli, or so it seems to me in my runner's high.

Coriander and chilli. Creates the sexiest omelette you'll ever taste.  First had one in Denmark, Western Australia.   I'm over again in a couple of weeks for another one.

[Seafront Plodder]

What a coincidence. I also donned my most recent Almeria finishers top in homage to those running it yesterday. Except in my case I was off to the pub to see England stuff Italy.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Coriander and chilli. Creates the sexiest omelette you'll ever taste.  First had one in Denmark, Western Australia.   I'm over again in a couple of weeks for another one.

I've just planted some coriander in our garden ... when it's ready I shall try that, most definitely.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

What a coincidence. I also donned my most recent Almeria finishers top in homage to those running it yesterday. Except in my case I was off to the pub to see England stuff Italy.

Well, from my experience of Almeria, donning the race top for the purposes of drinking beer seems almost ... mandatory.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.  ( A.A. Milne )

My sleep demons now mostly having been conquered by time off work courtesy of long-overdue annual leave, I took to the treadmill this morning for the simplest of 7km training runs. Not unsurpriisngly, given my lack of perambulation in recent times, it was tough going, but the task was accomplished and done so in a very positive manner. There comes a time in the return to fitness where the body seems to give up some of the toxins that have been taking over the old bod and slowing it down. These invariably come to the surface during a run in stinky, prickly sweat and sometimes expelled (forgive the imagery) in foul mucous coughed up from the lungs mid-run. This however, is quickly followed by a feeling of elation, doubtless created by a flood of barely-earned endorphins, and that ludicrous self-assessment of it being a 'job well done'.

But yeah, heck, it was only 7km. Still, these are the building blocks; the base-phase of a proper early-stages training schedule, and it felt bloody good. 

This is, of course, not unfamiliar territory for an off-again, on-again runner such as myself, and I take heart from having been here countless times before and knowing that it always ends well. The nagging doubt that one of these days it'll be just too hard to regain that level of fitness that I crave remains, but the reality is that I've many years of running still ahead of me, and the biggest hurdle is a simple mental one.

With summer nearing its end, and cooler autumnal weather approaching, conditions are ideal for running. So, no excuses, eh?

   

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Disembarking the pickle juice express.

The apparent inevitability of gun massacres in the U.S.A. have once again dampened the mood for everyone, and it was nice, therefore, to get away from everything for two days and nights with a quick trip to the family cottage at Blackheath, the highest township in the Blue Mountains. A visiting cousin made the trip to the mountains de rigeur, and it was indeed a welcome break from the endless agony of rolling news coverage of massacres and politics, both of which become inevitably and agonisingly entwined. If rolling news is the pickle juice chaser, then a trip to the mountains is the satisfyingly soporific whisky that is both the antidote and the contextualising brain-brake that allows reason and calm to again return.

There wasn’t to be a total escape from drama however: on arrival we discovered the house to have been over-run by ants. No room had escaped the invasion, and it took almost the entire first afternoon to be rid of them. Tracking down and uncovering the mother nest was rather like lifting the lid on a nightmare, if nightmares can be said to exist underneath an empty electric blanket box in the top cupboard of the second bedroom. Tens of thousands of ants and ant eggs were seething in glistening black and white monstrousness there, and were eventually disposed of, the surviving critters finally getting the clear message and disappearing, quite literally, into the woodwork.

Ant busting complete, we set about the task of enjoying a quiet time of it. There was no running undertaken during the two days, but a reasonable amount of walking was involved, and more importantly, I slept well both the nights we were there, which has made a more than modest improvement to my general mood and well-being.

This morning then, following our return yesterday and a third straight good night of sleep (and it has been probably months since that last occurred), I donned the running shoes for another 7km base-building, early-stage training run. It was, I have to concede, rather tough, but I put that down to the warm, humid weather more than anything. The important thing is that it was done, and I am once again beginning to feel the early benefits of ruddy good health. It’s probably little more than my imagination at this stage, but a positive indication even so.

It’s a start, at least. With still one more week of annual leave before returning to work, I am keen to get a few more of these runs tucked safely into the running log and with few other activities in the diary to interrupt the week ahead, I am confident of getting properly into gear before the week is out.