Not a comfortable plod along the canal this morning. A hangover, even a moderate one like today’s, is a burden. It wasn’t as cold as earlier in the week, but the strong wind was, literally, staggering. It gave me another chance to parade my new gilet along the village high street. It’s a fetching goldy-grey colour, and combined with my bright yellow teeshirt, navy shorts and white Chicago Marathon baseball cap, I felt rather well turned out.… READ MORE.... …
Month: January 2004
Snow, snow, quick quick snow… How startling to wake up and find the world suddenly white. I expected it to reduce my lunchtime run to a nervous plod but remarkably, I did my usual 3½ miles at an average 10:01 mile pace which for me is quick. The quickest training run for seven months. It was a bizarre outcome: it didn’t seem any faster than normal.… READ MORE.... …
Blame Lord Hutton and a large pickled onion. Thames Trains couldn’t be trusted to deliver me to London today so I worked from home. The snow never came, though we did have hail, thunder and lightning in an exciting 3 minute spell in mid-afternoon. The run was over by then, though an even earlier outing may have been a better idea, while the sunshine was strong.… READ MORE.... …
It’s like the threat of an imminent attack from some dreaded, unseen enemy. For days now we’ve been warned about the arctic weather on the way this week. The much-feared ‘cold snap’. Up to 6 inches of snow, they say, and temperatures down to minus 14 Celsius. Monday is supposed to be a rest day, but the siege mentality encouraged by the weather forecasts has finally got to me, and (to stretch the metaphor unreasonably) I decided to rush out and stock up with baked beans before the doors are nailed shut against the icy winds and the snow.… READ MORE.... …
Despite the shocking contents of the Daily Telegraph letters page, kids don’t seem much worse today than when I was a feral adolescent. I can’t help thinking that had the 13 year old me seen the 46 year old me plodding down the street, puffing and panting, I’d have needed no encouragement to laugh, shout abuse and throw things at me.… READ MORE.... …
A rather sticky moment at work yesterday. My boss breezed in, stroking the gerbil that He keeps in the inside pocket of His plastic mac. As usual, He sat for an hour or two in silence, just gazing blankly out of the window. Eventually, He turned to me and said, in that absurdly high-pitched voice of His, some words that froze the blood in my veins.… READ MORE.... …
That’s better. The same run as yesterday, but this time a full 70 seconds per mile faster, and much more comfortable. Last night’s Pilates session had lubricated a few joints, and as always, I felt strangely taller and more stretched today. The trouble with Pilates is that I do it for an hour a week, and forget about it for the rest of the time.… READ MORE.... …
It had to happen. The law of averages is strict on this point. After a week of good running, I finally managed a bad one this morning. It was probably the weekend of excess that encouraged it. Plenty of beer and biscuits over the last few days have added a couple of pounds, and helped me to feel lethargic and listless when I got up for the early morning run.… READ MORE.... …
I woke with so much enthusiasm that I sort of leapt upwards, bashing my head on the ceiling and falling back with such force that the bed crashed through the floor into the kitchen below, where I lay dazed and motionless for some moments. Purposeful footsteps, and the door burst open. In strode a young Joanna Lumley wearing high heels, fishnet stockings, suspenders and not a lot else.… READ MORE.... …
Dead. My new Garmin Forerunner gadget. It recharged successfully but won’t switch on. Cause of death? I suspect suicide. All these little chaps must dream of a career on the wrist of Paula Radcliffe or Paul Tergat. And instead this one got me. It chose extinction. This news may seem sad and bad, but running makes us cheerful and optimistic, and keener to search for the bright side, remember?… READ MORE.... …