This week my mileage sees one of the larger increases, and my two mid-length runs are 4 milers.
Originally I was meant to go out yesterday but a serious crash on the motorway meant I was three hours late for work and I ended up having a relatively stressful day trying to catch up with myself. I postponed in favour of prawns and Spartacus.
Mum had invited me around for tea tonight. Dad was out and Matt was on his way back from Birmingham so we thought we would have a nice evening chatting away. I said I would need to go out for a run, so after a quick pit stop home to get changed into my running clothes, I headed up to Mum’s where I also got the chance to run a different route (a very welcome change!).
My run looked something like this:
Mile 1: aaaaaarrrggghhhhhhhh….. Stitch!! I should not have eaten that yogurt before I came out…. Urge the paaaaaain (melodrama? Moi?)
Mile 2: cough…. Wheeze…. Cough… Thanks Mr 2 Stroke Moped for leaving a stink trail for half a mile. Hmm…. Stitch… Hmm left knee isn’t happy…
Mile 3: woo I am feeling good! Ok, with the exception of breathing out my backside when I reach the top of a rather brutal hill (but importantly, I made it to the top of the hill in a semblance of a run)
Mile 4: oh God. I am dying. Who put this hill here? I am sure this is meant to be flat. How much further? 0.75 of a mile? Ok… Huff… Puff… Walk… Now? 0.64? You have got to be kidding me. A watched kettle never boils? A watched Garmin doesn’t change either!
Mile 4.08: woo! Home!
And so I returned to my parents’ house, beetroot in colour, shining and a bit soggy with sweat, probably smelling as pretty as I looked.
My run was rewarded with a lovely hot shower and chilli con carne.