The Meadows at Lunchtime
...didn't look exactly like this, but nearly. Day off today and as I ached so much yesterday I went out on my bike instead of a run I thought that today I should try to have a bit of a speed session and get my act together. You know the type of thoughts...
Nothing was getting Buchanan out in the rain. I think he's afraid his glue will melt or something. So I went solo to the meadows via Arthur's seat with a view to doing something like 5 mile repeats at joke marathon pace with half mile recovery jogs.
At the foot of the radical road some of the big boys of hill racing were starting to gather for the Monday "7 hills of Arthur's Seat" run I have never yet had the courage to sign up for. It was teeming down. There was water standing on the grass despite it being on a good slope. Undeterred I made my way up the hill aux meadows.
Since there wasn't really any wind (despite the picture above) I decided to do it in reverse and run up the car side of the meadows - up and round the corner until Mr. Garmin beeped and then jog from wherever that was. It all started off well enough and I marvelled at how I could somehow manage to squeeze out a bit more speed when I set my mind to it. Rounding the corner the Garmin lost the plot (it always does at this bit) and was telling me I was going insultingly slowly. I was squeezed into the narrow and puddly cycle lane but looking nervously around for bikes as the path was choc-a-block with blind people with umbrellas. A ned did a fake move in front of me which made me have to dodge, hurt my dodgy hip and step in a puddle. I could have floored him. I realised that maybe my patience was stretched a bit thin as I thought "Honestly can the government not just eradicate these f*ck*rs." A rather final solution. I think neds are neds because they're angry inside, and they can sense it in you. I don't even see them when I'm in a better frame of mind.
It all kind of lost its charm after that. The people side of the meadows was annoying and the car side of the Meadows was - well - I might as well have been running up the motorway - and increasingly I wasn't generating any speed at all. Plus my legs didn't want to move anymore. The 2nd mile was slower than the 1st and the 3rd was the slowest yet so I decided to call it a day and run home.
Back at Arthur's Seat it was pleasantly empty. There was one of the good HBTs - I think it was Ray Ward, bounding along running at some crazy pace. Otherwise no-one. Why did I even go near the Meadows?
It was time to get home anyway. I was freezing.
I stopped off at the Scotmid to buy a can of soup to heat me up and could hardly handle my money or speak.
So anyway, its only a week after the marathon and I guess I'm still recovering. I thought I would go faster than that today. Boo.