A much flatter, still warm pre-breakfast set of 4 x 30 second and 1 x 45 second sprints laced with hill-climb recoveries. I can feel some base fitness coming back, which is very encouraging. I measure this on the hill recoveries. If, as I slog back up the Moyleman start, I'm thinking about just about anything that pops into my head, I'm on track. If, as has happened in recent times, I'm only thinking 'oh God, I'm going to die, why don't we just go home' I'm not quite there yet.
I've snapped the pace/ elevation chart from Runkeeper. The stop at 4.9 was at Willow's Jacuzzi, to allow the lurchers a drink and to greet our old friend the Big Chocolate Lab. His owner struggles to control him, so when he danced with joy at seeing Rip & Murph (who he first met when they were a few months old), he wound his extendable lead around me like a manic, slobbering Maypole dancer. Sadly Willow has succumbed to the ravages of time. She is restricted to slow walks or pottering out and about with the family, her gallant running days behind her stubby, propeller-wagging tail.
5.9 feel-good kilometres banked.
And I Would Run One Hundred Miles
