Today I was faced with the most embarrassingly girly running dilemma because I had a hair cut booked at 12.15. Now, hair cuts and giving blood are my two immovable, inarguable excuses for not running afterwards. Blood donation because a nice nurse in uniform tells you not to do anything strenuous for the rest of the day (incidentally, I did nearly faint once after giving blood. I decided that it was an efficient plan to donate and then leg it across the county to get to the final fitting of my wedding dress. The dressmaker will be forever haunted by the sight of my meringue-clad form flat-out on her spare bed with my mother hoisting my legs in the air) and hair cuts because the hours afterwards are the only time I will look anywhere near groomed until my next appointment. I like to treasure that time.
However, despite my moaning about early morning runs, I am a bit more of a lark than an owl and swear that the morning is the best time to get things done. As we’re getting ourselves sorted for our imminent trip to the land of Jogblog (alright, a tent on a sheep farm in Kent), it made more sense to postpone the run until the evening – this is a dangerous game to play, especially during an Athon, as my desire to leave the house tends to wane as the day goes on.
It wasn’t that I procrastinated before tonight’s run, I stalled. Pure and simple stalling. I messed around, pulled faces and sulked at the back door until Ginge decided to ignore me. After a not too brilliant night’s sleep, I had retired to bed for a nap in the afternoon and just enjoyed lounging with my book for a bit. By this time it was nearly 7 o’clock, if it wasn’t for Juneathon I would probably still be in bed.
I was less than keen because I thought that my legs would be weary, but I bounded off as if we were still in the first week of Juneathon and did a perky three miles at 9.23min/mile. I’m really enjoying the fact that I’m having one of those spells where your running just seems to click into pace – even when I think I’m plodding, I ask Miles and he reassures me that I’m doing a pace that I would have thought of as quick a matter of weeks ago.
The saviour of my legs (I think) has been having a ‘rest day’ between runs – even though I’ve been running every day, mixing up my morning and evening runs has given me 36 and 24 hours between outings. I tell you what though, I can’t wait for a proper day off.
UPDATE: Ginge has just pointed out that Day 11 wasn’t showing up in the archive, but I’ve twiddled a few things and it is now. It’s a canal run that includes photos of a u-boat of all things and is a bit more interesting than yesterday’s effort.