Thought about going for a run this morning. Mercifully it was last night that I had the thought. I managed to forget all about it until midway through a good rustic breakfast, by which time it was too late. Oh well. Worse things happen at sea. Instead, we headed off across the mountains to Vitoria. A great drive. We ignored the artery and followed the tiny capillaries instead. A bit precarious in places, but worth every moment. You could have wept for the scenery in places. It was like something out of Lord of the Rings; or like the cover of a Yes or Led Zeppelin album. Soaring peaks, wooded hillsides, monuments silhouetted in the distance, snakey roads visible down … …
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Thought about a run this morning, then thought about something else instead. We spent the morning scouting the rest of the city, trying to come to terms with the bizarre conglomeration of natural beauty and urban chic. Here we have a splendid municipal hall and plaza, and a dense network of shopping streets; but over here, a few yards away, is a low wall, beyond which is a fabulous, golden beach, craggy cliffs and a froth of surfers padding along the sand. While looking in a window of a department store in one of the smarter streets, a man puffing on a cigarette slaps past in full wet-suit, goggles and flippers on his way to the beach. High above the … …
Didn’t manage a run this morning. Too busy planning the next stage of the journey. One lives and learns. A week before leaving the UK I checked the car rental rates for Bilbao, and was pleased to find that you can pick up a medium range vehicle for around £16 a day. Pretty good, I thought. Would it be even cheaper to book it locally? Yes, obviously. Bongggg!!!! Sorry, wrong answer. Lose £200. Early this morning I checked at the hotel reception, and found that the local Avis wanted about £250 for 4 days. A capsule of mild concern burst somewhere in my gut, but by midday this had sort of lathered its way into a great frothy wave of … …
Morning run not an option. Too much gin last night, and too good a Bloody Mary at the hotel bar. Slept much better: no Aussies to worry about. Bilbao: interesting city, even when it rains all day. Today we took in the other major gallery, the Musee des Belle Arts. More conventional fare this time, but no less enjoyable for that. It’s always salutary to be reminded how every generation of art has provoked outrage in its time, before settling down to public acceptance. Had a long, rainy walk along the river into the city, then meandered round the streets on the trams for a while. Sunday in Bilbao is what Sunday in the UK used to be like. The … …
So. Where were you when England beat Australia in Sydney, to take the Rugby World Cup? Me? I was in a hotel room in Bilbao. I’d woken at 3:30am, and dozed fitfully till 9:45, fifteen minutes before kick-off. The anxiety that had kept me awake wasn’t centred on doubts about England’s chances (though I wasn’t over-confident), but a fear that I might not be able to get the game on one of the European channels here in the hotel room. Thank heavens for the French, who brought me not only the game but the unforgettable sound of those two frenzied commentators. My French isn’t good, which is just as well. The pictures were wounding enough, without a salty commentary to … …
This is what I meant, a week or two back, when I said that things can switch round for no very good reason. Last week I ran only once before doing the Brighton 10K on Sunday, and I’ve not run since. It’s 3 in the morning, and just now, nothing matters. Let’s have a holiday, then reconsider matters….… …
It just hasn’t been a running week. I had at least some poor excuse for Wednesday morning, but how can the rest of the week be explained? It hasn’t been a lack of motivation. Monday was a rest day; Tuesday and Friday I overslept. This morning I slept in till 8:30, then remembered the Australia-New Zealand World Cup semi-final was about to start, so running was forgotten again. Tomorrow I’ve got a number in the Brighton 10K, so either I’m desperately unprepared for it, or I’ve been meticulous in not over-training. Either way, I suspect it will be another slow run. Once I’ve got my weight down a bit and joined a club I’m looking forward to speeding up a … …
As Reading Gaol’s most famous alumni once remarked, “I can resist everything except temptation”. I seem to have the same… opportunity. So there I was on Tuesday, almost drowning in self-congratulation about my ascending good health, when the little matter of a football match came up. QPR were due to play our affable neighbours, Brentford, and I had a difficult decision to make. My habit is to meet up with a mate for a few beers before the game, though this didn’t sit very comfortably with my new health regime. What to do? After an afternoon of agonising, I decided that it would be unethical to let him down. More than unreasonable, it would have been nothing less than … …
That’s better: the teachers have just got off. I’m not even certain they are teachers, but that’s what I call them. Whoever they are, there must be a sitcom somewhere searching desperately for them. A group of four thirty-something academic types, one woman, three men, who cause uproar and outrage on the Paddington train each morning. Their sin? Irrepressible jollity. They’re happy. Their entire time is spent in loud argument or loud laughter. Sometimes they sing or recite poetry, or take photographs. Actually, I like them. But it’s always a relief when they get off, and leave the rest of the carriage to its silent, early morning wretchedness. If I’m close to them, I occasionally hear snippets of earnest conversation. … …
What a week. I mentioned recently that I’ve had a work deadline hurtling towards me. This week it hit, and I’ve been too busy mopping up the blood to post much here. Monday to Thursday were 12 hour days (or 16 if I include travelling time). It’s been difficult and intense, but we just about got away with it. Yes, difficult and intense. The word “stressful” was deliberately avoided because, although the pressure has been massive, I’ve never really felt close to serious stress. Here’s why: I knew this was going to a tough few days, so at the beginning of the week I resolved to run every morning. And I did. Every day at around 6am I was … …