3.5 hilly miles at the weekend trying to keep up with Mrs SP on her horse as she yomped over the South Downs at the weekend was followed this evening by a gentle 3 mile seafront plod.
Still unsure how I will run just over twice this distance in a months time, but I am experienced enough to know that whatever the distance, twice that feels like a marathon.
I have never run a 10k race before, so anything will be a pb. in a perverse sort of way I'm looking forward to it.
Seafront plodded my way to around 4.5 miles at the weekend. Went out for another 4 last night......but disaster struck.
I blame Sweders and my mutual friend "Clipboard" Tom. He made me do it. He made me go out and buy the dogs doodahs in-car sat-nav system, and yesterday was the day when I succumbed.
Well you have to have a play don't you...?
After 2 miles of plodding into the wind (which is akin to running through treacle), I could stand it no more and I went and sat in the car and pre-programmed some postcodes around the town to 'find'. Sad or what?
So only half the intended distance, but I can now work the sat-nav.....and I arrived home around the same time that a 4-miler would have taken so a blatent lie to Mrs SP over the distance was necessary, lest she call me a lazy sad git.
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!
With hardly any wind, and bright sunshine I decided to go out this morning for a last 5/6 miler before the Brighton 10k this coming Sunday.
I have plodded that seafront path many times, (recently in total darkness by the light of the moon) and have always managed to avoid turning an ankle on the stones that the recent high tides have washed up.
Not this time.
1.5 miles into the run, whilst I was staring out at the ships on the horizon, I stepped on a stone with the edge of my left ankle, and turned it. It is the same ankle I tore the ligaments in back in around 1983. It has always been a bit suspect and perhaps prone to injury but thankfully up until now I've been lucky.
Iced up and 2 nurofen later, sadly I now know I will not be running this Sunday. It's ok to walk on, but not good enough to plod.
I still may well pop along for the aprés plod, and to cheer Team RC as the dash for the tape 3 abreast towards glory.
Clearly SP is more of a cricket afficionado than he's been letting on! You're right of course - this a photo from a coaching manual on how not to play the forward defensive shot.
Methinks SP is a closet cricket nut. Or maybe he's just seen the light and is too embarrassed to admit it?
to know that 
