Oh so sloowly

[Seafront Plodder]

Had no intention of doing anything tonight. With a long run of only 4.5 miles some 10 days ago I was gradually accepting the fact that the Brighton Reebok 10k would not be for me. I had no enthusiasm. 'Lust', as they say in Germany - and that's pretty accurate! A combination of late nights and early starts has only exacerbated this lethargy to leave me pissed off and knackered. Oh yes, with an enormous gut to boot.

No, I have completed 3 marathons, "that's your running career over mate. Sail off into middle age on a combination of lard and beer". Ok. That'll do me.

Then I started to feel guilty.

If it was going to happen I would need a 5-miler tonight. So this evening off I toddled with Muttface in tow, in an attempt to (seafront) plod for 5 achingly slow miles.

I had not reckoned however for the Arse who got the days wrong and started letting fireworks off on the beach!!

Now my dog is not known for her confident nature and bravado, and at the first sight of a rocket and bang she positioned herself between my legs, whimpering like a baby.

Plan 'B' was required, and I had the superb idea to get off the comfortable seafront, cut up through the side roads, cut across the park in total darkness to join the seafront further up so I could miss said Arse.

So my gentle 5 mile pancake-flat plod became a 5.2 mile hilly, off-road, dog-between-the-legs nightmare!

Fecking fireworks...