In this great ocean of temptation, my nostrils remain just above the surface, while my feet are a blurred tumult of frantic paddling.
Eh?
Nothing to do with a weakening of my resolve. I’m more certain now than I was at the start of the week that this is the time to start recovering the lost ground of the last several weeks. But I’m having to absorb some long-standing commitments this weekend that are not going to get me in better shape for a new spell of marathon training.
It started last night with a visit from M2, the Dublin sister. We managed to stay on the saintly side with the food but the liquid accompaniment was more problematical, and peer pressure meant I’d no option but to guzzle the best part of a bottle of Vina Sol. Then late this afternoon I was obliged to meet up with her and some of her old university friends in the local pub, where two pints of beer were forced down my throat. Bastards.
After M2’s departure came the weekend shift: some friends down from Yorkshire for the weekend. I wasn’t sure what to feed them, so I ran out and bought a huge bag of kettle chips though I ate these absentmindedly while watching Have I Got News For You?, so had to hurriedly throw together a leek and lemon risotto instead. I was able to while away the traffic jam anecdotes by mixing substantial gin and tonics and dishing out the food. All worked out rather well really.
The meal was good, and not excessively calorific though I had to consume a large quantity of wine and beer to avoid embarrassing my guests.
Despite the modest excesses of the past 36 hours I’m still focussed on the renewed desire to get out there running. Remarkably, I seem to have managed to lose around 6 pounds this week so far, which should set me up nicely for a fresh start to the running regime on Monday.
It will be a relief all round to be able to start talking about running again.
