The clock radio clicked on and I was acosted by the sound of some Bach-like string quartet thing. Screaming with the realisation that it was still dark, frightfully cold and that I had only three hours broken, fitful sleep, and what's more, that I did not need to be at work for another two and half hours, I drifted off back to sleep, only to have the sharp stabbing pain of conscience sting me awake a few minutes later.
...oh yes, the small matter of the
scheduled run.
Let me state categorically the implication here; I am NOT a morning person...
there has to be a darned good reason before I'll get out of bed in the pre-dawn cold and gloom...
...excuse me, did you say scheduled run?
Scheduled run, yes.
...as in like, a training program of some kind?
Yes, you could say that.
...but it's a long way til November?
Erm, yes, but I seem to have entered a couple of other races in the meantime.
Oh, such as?
Er, well there's an 8km fundraiser in a couple of weeks, an 11km fun run the week after, and erm, a
mumble mumble half mumble mumble on Sunday week.
Pardon? Did you say "half"?
Er, yes.
As in "half marathon"?
Um, yeah.
On Sunday week??
Er, yes, I suppose it is.
You're totally bloody insane!
That must be true - we seem to be developing multiple personality disorder.
We do, yes.
Well look, what could I/we do? It just so happens that next week I'm back in Adelaide for a few days, and it just happens to coincide with the weekend of the Adelaide Half, a race I've wanted to run for ages - a gorgeous half marathon entirely along the banks of the River Torrens; very flat, very beautiful and only a few hundred runners, so not too congested.
But it does rather mean taking these mid week runs a little more seriously. So it was up early (too darn early), turn right out of the driveway, past the tennis courts and the golf course to the zinc smelter, round the roundabout and back again, keep going past my house, down to the canal, across the bridge, down past the rowing club to the end of the bay, take a breather, do a few stretches, back past the rowing club to the bridge, across the sports field, along the beach, up the bush track at the end to the cemetery, a big loop past the Jewish and C of E sections opposite the fuel depots, back to the bridge and home again for a tad over 8 kms.
I'd do it at night but much of it is off track or at least not illuminated, so it needs to be in daylight. And apart from the zinc smelter and the fuel depots, it's really quite pretty, too.
Anyway, after a dreadful night of little sleep, this run started out pretty disastrously, but after 6 km or so, suddenly the cobwebs lifted and I felt great - really quite strong and enjoying it. Now I feel full bottle ready for a day of w#rk... sort of*.
It's a funny old game this running lark.
I like it.
But I'm still
not a morning person.
I'd better dash.
*
The effect wore off by lunchtime. 
April Bloody April, Nothing Rhymes With April.
