I ran in to work and it wasn’t too bad. I felt fit-ish. Although I did think I was having a heart attack as I came round Pride Park stadium, so I had to stop for a second but I think it was just a flashback to the horror of Saturday’s match or perhaps even the arm removing moment in Sunday’s film. Fine now.
Later I run home and having GPSs-ed the route from Bramcote I’m horrified to find it’s only 3.8 miles, so I haven’t done as far today as I would have liked to have done. I’ve not even done, in two stints, the race distance for this coming Sunday.
I thoughtfully remind L about our plans for Sunday, just in case she may have forgotten. She claims to be very forgetful at the moment. As it happens the Ferriby 10 is ingrained on her mind.
Oh and I’m reliability informed that it’s fairly flat. Not really but that’s what every other hilly race has been claiming recently. It is though described as scenic and starts at a windmill. She’ll love it.
She saves her run until the evening and typically seems to outdo me. She first does a run alone and then does a stint with each of the two dogs. At least we’ll all sleep tonight, certain canines have been a bit lively of late come bedtime.
(Tuesday 25th January)