Last Long Run

Its two weeks 'til the marathon and we are way short of long training runs so we really had to, somehow, anyhow, knock out a long one today.
Neither of us were really feeling like it. We drank a couple of glasses of wine last night and watched a film, stayed up late, and made not firm plans for today.

Once up, (I was dreaming that I was supposed to get a cheque from my uncle but I kept not getting it), I still avoided the thought in my head and Peter got up about an hour later and still we didn't really discuss it. Finally I said "I'm going to text Amanda and see if she's gone her run yet" and as luck would have it, she'd been waiting in on a tradesman and so been held up.

There are too many variables to take into account to plan a long run for Amanda, Peter and myself so we didn't really plan it. I said when I'd be setting off and how fast I'd be trying to run. Amanda would set off from Musselburgh at some point, Peter would give me a head-start, and then we'd all head for North Berwick with our phones on so if we didn't meet up at some point we could communicate at the end.

I was a little hungover and a bit creaky from Friday so gave myself a mile's grace and then tried to knock out a consistent pace. It was pretty hot so I was soon dripping with sweat, particularly from my face which I'd sun-creamed up. The wind was firmly behind us which was nice so the day was favourable for running down the coast. Dodging the children and bicycles on the prom is a lot easier on fresh legs, so I prefer running it this way. Also, the scenery gets nicer and nicer as you head out to North Berwick, whereas coming back the other way I have a kind of heart sink as there are more cars, more people, more houses, more fumes...

I had a bit of a storm in my head about trying to keep Peter behind me, which probably kept me going, although I wasn't the most relaxed. Just after Lidl at the Pans I saw Amanda pop up from behind a hummock of grass. She was maybe 2 or 300 metres ahead, and I wasn't 100% sure it was her. Communication was impossible and there wouldn't be any point in her waiting on me only to drop me again almost right away.

A little while later I heard the familiar blowing noise of Peter approaching. I had held him off for the best part of 10 miles so that wasn't bad. We exchanged words and he went past and on to catch Amanda. (She held him off till Gosford House.)

I kept going fairly steadily for the next 4 miles or so but by the time I was coming into Aberlady I was falling apart. I took some time out to buy a can of Red Bull and a can of Fanta. I chugged the Red Bull right away and then had a bit of Fanta and poured the rest of it into my water bottle. I had blue Powerade already in the bottle so perhaps inevitably it reacted with the orange Fanta and a green spume erupted in an arc out the bottle and all over my shorts and my hands and my Garmin. The bottle was all slippery then so I dropped it at the side of the road and a passing man said "Clumsy.".

Yuk. I ran another bad mile and then the caffeine kicked in and started helping me a bit so groaning and feeling sorry for myself and pulling faces as I was alone I hurpled on down the long road to North Berwick with the sun beating down on my dripping head.

As I came into Dirleton my phone went and as I had to stop to answer it and being in a bit of a mood from the sun and all I swore as I looked at it and then noticed the pub garden full of senior citizens witnessing my display of ill manners. Peter was texting that he and Amanda were at the beach and I texted back "Which beach?" and then thought better of it so texted back "@ Dirleton will phone when @ nb" and shuffled off.

Another couple of miles on tired legs and then I was hailed by Isobel Pollard on a bike and then shortly after by Peter and Amanda strolling up the road. In 10 minutes we were on the train (but what about my ice-cream?) and a few minutes later we were heading back through the lovely countryside. Amanda put Mystic Meg's horoscope page to good use by sitting on it as she was still wet from going in the sea. Peter had brought a change of clothing as hates to be wet for long. We swapped stories of aches and struggle until Amanda got off again at Musselburgh.

Then home, pushing our way through the heaving crowds of festival "visitors", via Scotmid, our reward being quorn burgers and fried eggs on toast. I think you'll agree my egg bears an uncanny resemblance to Jesus weeping tears of blood.