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. It’s not often one feels positively smart while running but today I could pretend that I was modelling a new range of sportswear for Gieves & Hawkes.
I trotted along the canal for 2½ miles, then turned round and came back. A total of 5.2 miles. The wind meant the towpath was deserted, apart from a couple of miserable anglers and a waddling swan or two. My brief, according to Hal Higdon, was to run 45 seconds slower than marathon pace. This should have been much easier than it turned out to be, and it was only an unexpectedly fast final mile, after shaking off my thick head, that brought me in on time.
I’ve stayed clear of alcohol today, so here’s to a good start to the new month tomorrow.
