Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
Hobbling Into March
by Russell Turner - 12:07 on 03 March 2022
March has not begun well. On Tuesday I finally dragged myself out for the much-delayed Week 7 long run, the tattered training plan indicating 12 miles, part of it at HM pace. Within minutes I’d downgraded that to a 10-mile run/walk. In the end I managed eight miles.
The conditions didn’t help: a little too warm in tights and long-sleeved top with the wind behind me; too cold with a nasty headwind against me. The running sages opine that “You never regret a run” but this was one I really didn’t enjoy. The only positive note was that my hurty heels felt fine at the end.
A few hours later, however, I was hobbling around like an old man. Next morning was worse. And by the end of the day I’d begun a cold, which I must have picked up at last Saturday’s wedding or the garage where I stopped for a post-gig snack. I’ve been nowhere else, my life being so exciting at the moment. At least it explains my lethargy during the run.
So there’s no running today, and the odds of me taking on the Nairn 10k on Sunday are low. Another nuisance is a coincidental text from Mr Physio to tell me about how many last-minute cancellations he’s had to deal with and that money won’t be refunded. I’ve appealed for a new date next week but a reply has not yet been forthcoming. Woe is me.
Maybe I’ll feel more sprightly tomorrow. I couldn’t feel worse. The knowledge that Ex-Triathlon Cathy and Squirrel James are both running in Spanish sunshine (not together – that’s just chance) doesn’t help.
On a more optimistic note, yesterday evening Matchgirl and I sorted out our accommodation for Edinburgh Marathon weekend, discovering along the way that beds that weekend are in very short supply and the prices being demanded mostly range from outrageous to ridiculous (£360 for two nights in a Premier Inn? Come on!). Our swanky London hotel is cheap in comparison.
Fortunately we snaffled what felt like the last decent room in the last decent hostelry – The Lane Hotel in posh Morningside. It’s a little further than we’d want to walk on marathon morning but not desperately so. A possible bonus is that their last room was the one designated as disabled-friendly. I might need its facilities after 26.2 miles plus extras. At the moment a marathon feels like an impossible dream.
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