It’s All Relative

Well first we lose an hour in bed due to the clocks going forward and then we head to Stafford for their half marathon. Though again, due to my injury, only L will be competing.

That said, I leave the dogs to howl in the car while I watch the start.

Then as the course does a loop away from the town centre before returning, I wait for L and join in. I’m not sure exactly how far I run but it was over a mile, maybe one and a half and it goes ok. No reaction in my calf. It’s at a slower pace than I usually run at but it’s a pace that actually doesn’t feel too bad at all.

L did tell me to take it gently. Unfortunately, I was doing my sort of gentle when it went in the first place. She quotes me, that I was ‘on for a good pace’. It’s all relative. Good = Gentle. I was about to wind it up when my leg fell off.

Then I leave L to it and run the same distance back to the start, extract the howling twosome from the car. We go to watch the winners finish and then the rest of the race from the pleasant surroundings of Victoria Park.

I’m not sure how L felt about me running with her. I either paced her or annoyed her. I’m not sure which. Her time though is eleven minutes up on last week and her second best of the year but then such wild swings in her performance are not uncommon.

Today I don’t have to request a t-shirt as they were handing them out before the start, along with the race medal. This is of course a cardinal sin of the highest order by the organisers and a massive tempting of fate by anyone who takes one. It also causes unnecessary congestion in the race village. That said it’s a brilliant t-shirt, which I shall wear with unearned pride and a little embarrassment.

Back home, we hit the pubs for the first time since Switzerland, covering pubs supporting Nottingham’s Stout And Porter Trail. We visit the Borlase Warren, the Gooseberry Bush and the Lincolnshire Poacher before at L's suggestion we finish at our favourite cheap and cheerful Indian, the Noor Jahan.

(Sunday 25th March)

Subtle Pressure Fails

The ructions from the great Loughborough Half Marathon rejection rumble on. I try and exert a bit of gentle pressure on the organisers by email. I imagine there’s a pretty high chance of a place coming up but can we afford to risk it by waiting and end up, horror of horrors, with a weekend off. The obvious way of ensuring a place is probably by entering something else on the same day, then for sure we'll be offered a place in Loughborough.

When the subtle pressure doesn’t work... stuff 'em... I ask to have our names taken off the waiting list and we enter Stafford instead.

It’s further to go but L assures me it was a good t-shirt last year. How does she know that? I don’t remember running it... but then there’s a lot things I don’t remember these days. She’s says she’s seen loads of people wearing them, that’s ok then.

It’s also not far from Leek and that was a hilly b****rd. It does say ‘incorporating two steady climbs’ on the info. I will so look forward to it.

I run from work and run a bit further than last week but I’m not sure how far as my GPS packs up. I’m guessing around 16k, 10 miles. I’m almost at Bramcote when it dawns on me that if I go much further it will become rather pointless getting the bus for only another couple of miles. So I stop there and then, at least making it worth getting the Mango card out. I’m also not sure I’ve got another three miles in me.

I get home and then, as instructed, shove L out of the door for hers.

(Wednesday 18th January)