Another day, another stupid o’clock alarm call. My legs are still a bit grizzly after yesterday’s run and not wanting to do anything stupid, I decided on a short pootle just to get things moving. By “not wanting to do anything stupid”, what I also mean is “not wanting to get up and go for a run”.

So it was just two miles done and the Janathon halfway mark has been passed. It’s all downhill from here folks.

Today was completely necessary after a very kitchen-based day yesterday. Barbecue ribs and wedges for tea, and an afternoon with the Book of Dan (bagels and toll house cookies, yum) needed to be offset as much as possible.

Ginge joined me for a chilly 6.5 miles and with him by my side, we decided to do the exploring that we’d intended to do last week.

I drive past this bit of countryside every day on the way to work – the changing colours of the trees in the distance are my measure of the changing seasons.

Despite this, I’ve never ventured down into the valley to explore this side of the park (it matches up with side with the lodge where I photograph swan bums). It turns out that it’s all footpaths through fields and if it hadn’t been completely frozen, it definitely would have been a route for the trail shoes. As it was, the ploughed up tracks squeaked and creaked under our feet as I tried desperately not to turn my ankle.

The one thing that I really should learn is that valley inevitably = hills. This never seems to sink into my thick skull. At the bottom of the valley we came across this lost soul who seemed to be looking wistfully towards the Tesco up the road, I hope he finds his way back to the rest of the herd.

It was a glorious day to be out – it was cold, but the sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly. Unfortunately, with the sun behind us, we were accompanied by our shadows. Generally I can convince myself that I look ok when I run, but my shadow brings an end to these lies. My shadow gallumphs along and while I like its waist, it sits on top of a generous pair of hips and reminds me that I am not the svelte athlete in my head. Curses.

It’s been ages since I’ve run on the canal and today’s cold and frosty morning seemed as good a time as any to have a trundle down the towpath.

Layered up on top (thumb holed sleeves over gloved hands) and less so on the bottom half (knee length tights…) , my main concern was the effect of the cold on my bladder.

It was a bit too early for most of the waterfowl and most were either sleeping or preening. I spent ages trying to take a picture of a duck having a good wash and ending up with a spiky head. Every time I took one, he’d duck his head down and I’d get a decapitated-looking creature instead. Having said that, I’d be a bit narky if someone tried to take photos of me with bed hair.

Luckily, these fellas were less camera shy.

It was nicely busy and was one of those mornings where not saying ”morning!” to people would’ve been wrong. I even managed a cheery smile as I sped up past a serious runner type, although I fear he saw through my pretending to be a proper running as the next time he saw me I was taking photos of a tiny horse.

After a chilly three miles, I nipped into town to get some shopping and faced the stares as I was rocking a quality outfit involving running tights, hoody, woolly NY Jets hat and handbag. I know it’s not exactly a good look and probably not one for polite company, but I can’t work out whether they were from admiration, curiosity, amusement, disgust or a combination of all of the above.

CLANG!

That was the sound of me throwing down the gauntlet to Miles.

I was very glad when the clock struck five today and was a bit “awwwww, do I have to…?” when faced with Janathon tonight. So a mile racing Miles it was.

I set him for 8:40, had a tootle round the block to warm up and off I raced. Until I nearly ran into a young lad dressed all in black. On a black bike. With no lights. Recovery made and swear words muttered, I raced onwards realising I was slipping behind in this two person race. Up and round on the way back, I pulled ahead but the final incline did for me and the little git my worthy opponent beat me by 68ft.

Next week I’ll have him…

I cannot express the joy that I felt at not having to get up to run at stupid o’clock this morning. Three nights out of the house is more than enough for me and even though a teeny tiny part of my brain said “go on, let’s go for 5/5”, my tired body told me that today was a post-work run.

Yesterday’s early run was caused by a brief excursion to Lancaster to watch the fabulous Mark Thomas at The Dukes. It was his Manifesto show in which he takes suggestions from the audience for a manifesto to make the world a better place. I know some of you have plans for world domination (I’m mainly thinking of you Hels) and I’m sure that a fair few Athoners would love this show (and have probably heard it on Radio 4). The audience’s idea range from the ideologically driven to the silly to the downright odd. My favourites from last night include:
Tracksuits should only be worn by people who do exercise.
Everyone who has a garden should keep chickens – they are a great social leveller (with the explanation that, and I quote the nice well to do looking lady next to us who said it, if you keep chickens you have to chase chickens and everyone looks like a dick when they’re chasing a chicken).
Fag breaks for non-smokers.

And my most favourite of all… People with car stickers declaring that their car is powered by fairy dust should not be allowed to fill up at petrol stations.

Oh, and there was the war on potatoes lady who wanted them removing from fruit and veg aisles in supermarkets. I suspect her reasoning was that they don’t count as one of your five a day, but the reason that she gave was that potatoes had ‘made everyone fat’. Luckily, there was this poster in the foyer that counteracted her madness and made me think of Shaun over at I like to count.

We didn’t get home until quite late, so the normal workday alarm was set (and snoozed through). Conveniently, the layout of my working day and a bit of time owing meant that I could squeeze in a three miler before darkness set in. I decided to take on my hill and got a bit further up it, despite burning lungs. I’m very optimistic that next time I run it, that hill will be mine…