Strangely Therapeutic

After last night’s run the bike into work was hard work although I think my legs found tt strangely therapeutic. However, they soon start seizing up once I’m at work.

No tennis tonight as the centre is closed again, this time for the British Open Wheelchair Championships. So, I shall do some proper exercise instead. Well, I shall cycle home.

As does L, who runs to meet us at the Dispensary.

(Thursday 3^rd August)

Plastic Drawers

I’m back on the bike today and it’s incredibly hard work. I’ve no idea why. I even had yesterday off or perhaps that’s the problem. Days off can’t be good for you.

Then it’s dogging over at Hilton. On the way we pick up three sets of plastic drawers for Daughter. That is drawers as in furniture for her flat, not the other variety.

At the pub afterwards the Wainwrights is back. Whilst it’s good to have it back... its good to have the option of avoiding it as they also have Bradfield Farmers Brown Cow. 

(Wednesday 5^th April)

Another Record Bad Year

On the bike today and it’s bloody hard work. I’m so unfit etc etc but there’s no wind and no rain, so it’s perfect conditions really.

It’s time to look at my end of year bike stats and they’re not good. 139 rides last year which is 4 down on 2010 which was also a record bad year. I suppose I have been running more instead. I think. A bit. A little bit.

Total distance wise, 3,266km sounds good but is again down on 2010, 355km down.

L passes on some advice someone gave her in the gym for dealing with sore knees post race. She was recommended to go along to Clarendon Sixth Form College where there's loads of students willing to give massages for a fiver. Apparently they’re really up for runners legs to practice on because they are different from the ones they normally get to lay their hands. Better I assume. I’m there.

We’ve snuck into the Liversedge Half, at least I have, not sure if L’s had her confirmation yet. I’m number 567. So much for the 500 limit.

It’s a bit wet when I cycle home but not as wet as it gets when I head to dog class for MD’s first day back at school after the Christmas hols. He is very very up for it. Which I think is a good thing.

I’m glad I’m not on the late 9pm shift and therefore have to carry the equipment across the car park in the driving rain to put it away. I will be next week though, so it better not be so foul then.

Talking of rain, L’s phone has dried out and is still dead, so she’s bought a new one. Unfortunately she’s lost her phone book on the old one. Which means she is now having deep and meaningful text conversations with people without knowing who they are. I send her an anonymous text but she guesses it’s me. At least this shows she can’t have that many admirers randomly texting her.

(Wednesday 4th January)

On The Cusp

We leave the kids to deal with the gasman. Well they are ‘adults’ now and as everything to do with the boiler is on a service contract what can go wrong?

Things may not go wrong but they don't seem to go right either. Apparently the guy is coming back again tomorrow. No idea why but we still have no hot water. I would think he’s taking us for a ride but as it’s not actually costing us anything, I assume he's taking British Gas, for who he’s contracting, for a ride instead and charging them as many hours as he can.

Another run tonight, my final long one prior to Nottingham, which is now less than two weeks ago. As the latest smug email from the organisers joyfully informs me. ‘we hope all of your training has gone to plan, you're enjoying being on the cusp of tapering and are looking forward to race day as much as we are.’

Throughout tonight’s 17km, I feel permanently ‘on the cusp’ of something but whatever it was, it wasn’t something pleasant. The 17km felt like 117km. e.g. it was bloody hard work. You take a few days off and it all falls apart.

L’s training aims are a little less ambitious. She’s off for a ‘trot around the embankment’, her words. I like the sound of that.

As Daughter is out I cook up a steaming hot curry. Life’s little pleasures. When she’s up in Sheffield we’ll be able to do steaming hot every day.

(Tuesday 30th August)

An Insane Idea

A fourth five mile run in three days this morning, Well 4.5 miles anyway. It’s bloody hard work but useful, I hope. I’m really trying to pack them in this week.

L says she’s up, has walked the boys and is at her desk for 9:30. She's working from home again. Oh how the other half live. Well, not working exactly, she confesses to ‘twiddling around’ on the internet, same as she would be doing at work, until 10:00. Only until 10:00? She puts the rest of us to shame.

My squash/tennis opponent is slowly building up to the giddy heights of running 5k, in .1k stages, on his treadmill. If he can overcome the boredom of it all. He’s doing better than me, I wouldn’t dream of doing 5k on a treadmill. It would drive me insane. I’ve no idea why he won’t run on the road. My four and a half miles this morning was a breeze. If I’d done that on a treadmill I’d have probably slit my wrists half way through.

So to tennis, which I cannot get motivated for but I quite enjoy game six, which goes on for about half an hour and involves twenty odd deuces, all on his serve. Enjoyed that. Lost it in the end, which was a shame as that would have made it 3-3 in the first set. I lose that first set 6-3 and it’s difficult concentrating on the second when you’re counting the games down to when it’s pub time. So 6-3 6-1. Soon be back to squash, hopefully.

(Thursday 11th August)

Well You Would Do Wouldn't You

It’s very warm this morning. 10 degrees and raining. It could almost be August.

So summer’s here then, no excuse not to get on my bike again. Though I find cycling two days in a row very hard work. I’m so unfit, as L would say. On the plus side, my knee seems ok. In fact, I’d forgotten about it.

In the news is a man who threatened to blow himself up in Accessorize on Regent Street, London. Well you would do wouldn't you.

It’s a nice dry ride home but two days biking in a row is made harder by getting involved in a bit of a race on the way home. Well you would do wouldn't you. It’s not my fault, it’s my testosterone or his testosterone. After all, he started it.

Then tonight I’ve got squash. Honestly L will be hosing down the testosterone tonight, from a distance. If I’m awake after all that activity. Which I might just be because I’m celebrating. I won 2-1. Had the fourth game gone to completion I may not have done but even a draw would have been cause for celebration but scrub that, I bloody won.

(Thursday 13th January)