Juneathon day 8: I need putting in a bag and shaking

Ginge marvels at my ability to wake up in a foul mood. Nothing actually happens in those brief moments between dreaming and waking, but somehow the clouds have rolled in and everything is a bit grey and bleak. There’s always a temptation to let it swallow me up (inevitably leading to more clouds later on, when I turn this into another stick to beat myself with) rather than kick myself up the bum and shout “RAAAAHHHH!” at it. This morning was one of those mornings. I forgot to set my alarm, but still woke up at half five – rather than cheer the fact that I’d woken up in plenty of time, I uttered the words “sod Juneathon” (or words to that effect…). Half an hour later, I still hadn’t shifted and was skirting dangerously close to letting myself passively fail by ‘running out of time’.

Five minutes after that, I was dressed (albeit with my running tights on inside out, but I looked fairly respectable) and being hustled out of the door to go and do my Audiofuel intervals. The cloud lurked for about three minutes before I started to feel better. I belted out my fast bits quicker than last week (my training conversation with Ginge last night went: Ginge “the key to sprinting is using your arms – pump your arms and your legs will go faster”, Me “yes, but I’ll look like a tit….”) and ignored the cloud creeping back in when I nearly decided that having a short walk as part of one of my recoveries was a sign of my abject failure.

Who knows what set me off this morning. It could be that I’ve got some work worries in the back of my mind, it could be something abstract that hasn’t occurred to me yet, it could just have been that I was really hungry when I woke up….

I really can’t be doing with my head sometimes.

Today was exactly half way between a 99 or 2 cornets – maybe a 99 with sauce and sprinkles.

Day 15/30 – in which I curse my garmin, but then grin wildly at the thought that we’re over the hump

Or, Day 15/30 – Goldilocks rules

A day’s training meant that it was never going to be an early one today. In fact, I was so stressy about the day that I dreamt vividly and woke up convinced that I had to go to Blackpool, rather than Liverpool today. I’d been looking forward to an evening run and had lots of exciting plans of where I could possibly go after work. Be careful what you wish for – I think I’d got so enthused with the concept that none of my routes lived up to the hype. Everywhere that Ginge suggested was wrong – that was too long, too short, too urban, too isolated (I don’t go through fields), too much like a morning run, too hilly, too scary as I had no idea what the hills would be like…. Eventually we settled on a sort of figure of 8 that I could add on to if I felt like it (ha).

I have lingering grumpiness and all of this took a good hour to sulk work through, by which time I’d nearly convinced myself that Juneathon was a pointless exercise because it’s inevitable that I will fail at it sooner or later, so I may as well stop now. Truly I am a sunshine-filled optimist at the moment.

When I did eventually set off, my garmin had a bit of a hissy fit and chose to ignore the first 0.2 miles – this did not help my mood, because we all know that if the garmin doesn’t record it, then it hasn’t happened… I was also too hot – when I’d left Merseyside, it was cloudy with a nice breeze, back home I’d neglected to consider the properties of the large shiny ball hanging there in the bright blue cloudless sky.

For a good portion of this run, my motivation was the thought that there were no shortcuts home so I might as well keep running, but after a while I was actually enjoying myself (sort of) and did 5 miles (plus the bit that my contraption ignored).  I was also quite pleased that my average moving speed was 10.36min/mile, which for me is a decent plod, especially as I’d felt like I was running through custard.

Tomorrow, it’s back on the 5.45 alarm call for an easy early one. Hurrah!

Day 13/30 – whose bloody idea was this?

Alright, I was perky a couple of days ago but this morning was a bugger. I resented that I had to go out and do bloody Juneathon (staying in bed until Desert Island Discs started) and I was grumpy for the majority of the 3 miles that I hacked out. The only highlight was nearly being run over by the man who ran into the back of my car in March – he’s going to have to get up pretty early if he’s that determined to take me out, I was still too fast for him this morning….

At 11.30, the village was mainly occupied by people either doing landscape gardening or clanking bottles or cans into their wheelie bins. No runners passed, but I did see a couple of women bedecked in pink being dropped off after one of the local race for lifes (races for life? Races for lives? I don’t know).

It was a bit overcast and gloomy when I went out, unfortunately this turned into a downpour by this afternoon – which cut short my planned morris dancing watching as they only managed a couple of routines before being beaten by the weather (and before we went to another pub).

Morris dancing in the rain

Morning glory, flowering briefly today

Crikey I’m grumpy tonight.