Arthur's Seat was too busy. There was a party of - possibly dutch - school children walking up the road as we ran by on the pavement. I groaned inwardly as I heard them start to giggle and then start to run behind us. I felt completely knackered but there was pride at stake. They "forced us" to pick up the pace. The main of them fell back gratifyingly quickly but two persisted. Then one of the two even more gratifyingly stopped running and lay down on the grass verge panting. One to go. He beat me but wasn't ever going to catch Peter. As I passed he was breathing hard, so that was something.
Happily there were no more races after that. There was another herd of tourists to be broached - although our friend Amanda says we've to call them "visitors" - in order to get down onto the innocent railway path. The road back up into the Queen's Park was steeper than usual and there was a fresh wind in our faces, but it was pretty much downhill all the way after that. 8 and a bit reluctant miles completed and tomorrow is a guilt-free rest day.