Aunts, trams and televisions.
Long weeks of too many night shifts have depleted me of life's essence. I awake disoriented, knowing only that I was dreaming of a non-existent tram ride from Queenstown on the west coast of Tasmania ... most odd. Not so odd but equally disconcerting was the dry tongue and parched throat recoiling at the drizzle of sawdust that was apparently raining down on it from who knows where. The disorientation I blame on work, but the hangover I blame on my aunt. At 91, she is one of life's sweetest souls. The depth of her sweetness, however, is matched by a fierce independence, so much so that she still lives alone in a huge old house, as it happens just around the corner from us. She's a fine, fine lady, and so last night, when she failed to answer any of the numerous phone calls she usually receives of an evening, we received a concerned call from her sister (my mother-in-law) asking if we could please walk around and check on her. Well, of course. Abandoning our dinner preparations we high-tailed it around to her house to find a most unusual scene. The lights were on and the television unusually turned up full blast so you could easily hear it from the street. There was no answer at the door, and we could hear her phone still ringing constantly. A somewhat concerning scenario, you might say.
Long story short: we 'break' into the house using her hidden key and discover our aunt blissfully asleep in her armchair in front of the TV, the phone still ringing by her side. It was a simple conundrum; her hearing aid was on the blink and so she had the TV turned up excruciatingly loud so she could hear it, but it was then so loud she didn't hear the phone ringing. She fell asleep, and so the worrying of friends and relatives began as the number of unanswered calls mounted.
We woke her as gently as we could, which is no small matter when she's 91, quite deaf, prone to be a little disoriented, and not expecting to see anyone else in her house. Anyway, no harm was done except to our fish drying out in the oven back home, but she was so embarrassed by it all that she insisted we stay for a drink ... which of course turned into several. I said she was a sweet lady, didn't I?
Then, on returning home to rescue our dinner, we found the fish was so dry that it needed considerable lubrication ... and you get my drift, I'm sure.
That doesn't explain the tram dream, but I'll just have to let that one go through to the 'keeper I think.
Anyway, not one to let an unscheduled hangover get in the way of a scheduled training session, I sweated out my aunt-induced hangover with a nice little tempo run, a little later than I expected, but at least it was done. It was just 6km, but getting right up there into proper training and maybe even moderate race pace for a while. It felt very, very good. Well, at least after the first two kilometres of sweat and pain anyhow.
As a base-building bonus week, it has been a reasonable one. Just 16km were covered, but given I'm working long (50-hour) weeks mainly through the night at the moment, I'm more than happy to be doing any running at all. With another bonus week to come before the slightly more serious 20-week programme to get to Almeria in good form begins, I have every reason to be happy and confident, and I am. This is despite the best efforts of difficult work conditions and hearing-deficient and-generous-with-the-booze aunts, (bless her!)
Oh yes, the possible injury I alluded to in my previous post turned out to be nothing, really. I think it was just some arthritis flaring up in my right foot. At first, it seemed like my old friend plantar fasciitis, but I'm pretty certain by the speed at which it settled down again that it wasn't that.
Right, on with it, then.
Schleptember
