4 miles, feeling pretty weary after last night’s 8.
This bloody rain is tiresome. It’s a while since I wore my contact lenses but I’m planning to blow the dust off them and use them for running. Glasses, running and rain are decidedly ill-suited companions. After a while tonight I just gave up wiping the spray off them, and the last couple of miles were spent wondering if that approaching thing was a harmless dip or a pothole, a post or a child, a hedge or a parked car. Sometimes it just occurs to you what a crazy pastime this is. Wretched, cold, wet, tired, hazardous. That crock of gold had better be there to meet me or I’ll be deeply disgruntled. No, I’m not depressed about it all – far from it – but it’s important that if I reread this in years to come, through the rose-tinted spectacles that seem to be prescribed for marble deficiency, I should remember that this was bloody hard work and pretty dispiriting at times.
Tomorrow’s my sports massage. That, and two days of rest, should put me in a more positive frame of mind. I’ll need it for the 16 miles that lie in wait on Sunday.
