Beer. Run. Beer.

This weekend we went up to Lancaster for the Lancaster Beer Festival. This was never going to be a diet-friendly weekend; we started on Friday afternoon with several pints of Lancaster Blonde and some pub knitting, on for a meal at the Italian that we used to go to when we were courting, and then it seemed rude not to take advantage of another of the city’s real ale pubs. Normally I would never consider trying to fit a run into this sort of weekend, but we had been up to see the nice ladies at the New Balance factory shop and I had a shiny new pair of 1226s to try out. As such, I stopped drinking at ten o’clock, felt relatively fresh on Saturday morning and trotted out for a pre-breakfast 3.25miles.

Lancaster canal

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