"for the happy, the sad, I don't want to be, another page in your diary"

Thursday 30 June 2011

A Beer And A Bark

A great drive in today, the roads are very quiet. You’d think all the schools were on strike or something but only one secondary school in Nottingham appears to be closed. Which is of course the kids’ old school, which as we know, never misses a chance for a day off.

That apart we’ve got to do with the courts, border control staff, coastguards, job centres and driving test examiners today. That combination will really bring the country to its knees.

It’s the dreaded MOT today. The verdict - two bulbs, dodgy wipers and an empty water bottle... How can they fail me on an empty water bottle? They tell me they’ve kindly filled it up for me but they’ve probably charged me labour and materials for it. Oh and they’ve adjusted my handbrake, it got an ‘amber’ for not being stiff enough. L will be pleased; she struggled to pull it on before it got its ‘amber’.

We visit the pub at lunch, for the traditional pie and chips which is not ideal race prep but then tonight’s race isn’t ideal race prep for Saturday half marathon either. Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb and it is Rushcliffe, so a pint can’t hurt. I can only make things look better surely.

So four miles of grit footpaths around Rushcliffe Country Park then. I vow to take it steady because my legs are still not functioning properly after Tuesday and I also need to keep something, well a lot, in the tank for Saturday. Oh and I’m full of pie and chips, and beer.

If I can run seven minute miles all the way I’ll be happy with that. Anything under 28 minutes for the whole thing would be acceptable in the circumstances, despite the fact I did 25 something last year.

I start well back and have to do a lot of overtaking, which should have been quite pleasant in a way, with one particular club from northern Nottinghamshire fielding all their female runners in crop tops and hot pants but there isn’t a pair of hips or a chest between them.

I achieve my target mile time with amazing accuracy for the first three miles, so I push on a bit in the fourth and start passing a few more people. I come in at 28.42. How did that happen? A 7.42 last mile? Gutted. Somebody must have moved the mile markers.

Where as I'm slower, L, much more shapely than a northern Nottinghamshire runner, is again quicker than last year by around 30 seconds. Well done again.

As it’s fairly warm tonight we collect the dogs and sit outside the pub afterwards, so that we can bark at everyone. A post race beer and a bark, you can’t beat it.

(Thursday 30th June)

No comments:

Post a Comment