If I hadn’t run yesterday morning, I would have fallen of the Janathon wagon. By the time we got back from Ikea, I was felt tired and grotty, enough so to retire to bed at 9.45 and sleep until I really should have got up for work. Oh, I didn’t entirely sleep through, I was woken up in the early hours by the bone-chilling howl of the wind (I have just been informed that an aluminium shed was blown across the village overnight*). Needless to say, I didn’t even consider a morning run today.
By 5 o’clock, I was finishing work and all I wanted to do was go home, eat my tea and be cosy. I texted Ginge. My side of the conversation went something like “Starving. Have run out of food. Do I HAVE to run tonight?” to which he replied with the suggestion that I just run a mile as fast as I can. It seemed a good as way as any to clock in for Janathon, have a slightly useful run and be finished in time for a brew and some scowling at crochet.
In the end it turned out that getting changed, getting Miles to find a signal and getting out of the door actually took longer than the run. I pootled round the block to wake my legs off and off I trotted. Running in the wind seems to have dislodged some gunk from the bottom of my lungs, which is probably a sign that I should put more effort in more often. It took 08:54, which I’m pleased with (I rarely see 8s), but it did remind me of the pace that I’ve lost over the last few months. Anyhow, Ginge’s latest suggestion is that I repeat it again at the end of Janathon, which isn’t a bad idea. I may keep him.
I didn’t manage to do my random number doodah yesterday, but I did read My Dodgy Feet whilst crammed into the back of the car with a substantial amount of flatpack.
*In reality, it may have only flown about 100 yards but that’s still further than a shed should travel independently.