I manage to drag my weary bones into work. Where they sit slumped in a chair, head on the desk, one weary finger typing an email to L to inform her I’m fine and have never been better. Actually, I’m sure I’ll be ok in a bit, in time for my run.
I run, stagger and walk a bit, to Long Eaton, which is 15km. Today the distance counts, the performance e.g. the speed or lack of it, is less important. The legs are tired but that’s not so much the problem as the bad knee I’ve developed. Which is not at all welcome, just as things were progressing nicely on the half marathon front.
L walks the dogs up to meet me from the bus stop, to stretch their paws and jaws. Once there, she hands them over, gladly, and goes off to run her own 5k.
She’s just got back from the hairdressers, where she’s gone red again, which is great but unfortunately someone’s trimmed a bit off the length at the same time. Tut tut. Black armbands tonight.
We stay in. L has already pre-cooked lasagne and has fetched some bottles of Old Peculiar from the shop for me to soak my feet in or I might even drink them.
(Friday 28th September)