I pushed the mileage the week before last, so last week I took it easy running-wise, but I seemed to be alright. Come Saturday I felt fine. It was bright, although a bit hazy. We headed down to Gullane.
We're in the habit now of setting a photography theme for the day, with a competitive edge. In the summer we had bee and butterfly-offs. Moving towards autumn we turned to orange leaves and bright berries. When choosing a theme it's best to pick something that is available so we usually establish the day's target in the first mile while we're warming up and seeing what's there. This week, in the low winter light, it seemed evident that our photo-challenge should be Back-lit Beauties. Buchanan got straight to work on the dandelions. I was too proud to get sufficiently near, so I think he won.
Anyway, it was a lovely day and I was surprisingly swift. Sometimes we can both be a bit tired and fractious on Saturdays, but for whatever reason we both seemed to have the joy and we both loved our run round the beach. It helped that everything looked spectacular. The tide was way out below the Aberlady nature reserve so we went a visit to the subs.
What happens if you pan with someone running on "panorama" mode? This. This is what happens.
We were in such good moods we didn't even fall out in Tescos later doing the shopping for the week.
Then Buchanan was pulling for a longer run. He didn't run a step during the week because he's a lazy old cow. I think it's why he's lasting so long and so well. (Touch some wood or something - no not that.) Then at the weekend he's too fresh. He got a notion he wanted an ADVENTURE on Sunday. The sun was going to shine. It was to be a lovely day. All memories of my long year of injury were erased from his eager mind. We should run 18 MILES. I would be FINE.
I was pleased with how well I was standing up, but knew my abilities were not going to keep pace with Buchanan's enthusiasms. And it was too late really to get him to hook up with someone more his own size for a big old run-out. I wanted to run 10 miles max. Somehow I compromised with a suggestion of a 15 mile hilly route through town. So anyway, that's what we did. It wasn't such a nice run. It started off with Peter all impatient and pushing the pace and ended with me complaining for pretty much the whole of the last 5 miles. I never noticed the moment when it stopped being him behaving badly and started being me. I was bloody glad to stop though. I was running 10+ minute miles towards the end and my legs felt like old wooden poles.
I know I keep taking pictures of this way into the park, but it's great isn't it?
We ran through the posh back streets from the Commie Pool to Blackford Pond. I nearly got in an altercation with a rude fat lady in an Audi who beeped me unnecessarily as she drove too fast round a corner.
Ex-PRCers Fiona and Keith Mayfield were out for a walk in the Hermitage.
This was my nod to the beauties as I was coming off of Corstorphine Hill. My legs had gone peg by this time however so I wasn't feeling it.
Beautiful cranes.
The next day I went out just a wee three miler expecting my legs to be dead wood, but they were in fact inexplicably good.
I got my date through at last for my heart stress test. I had thought this was going to be on a treadmill with an admiring audience cheering me on as I belted out "Proud Mary" and ran my socks off. It turns out, however, that they're going to do it with me lying flat on my back and them filling me full of drugs that make my heart beat fast while I just lie there. As Peter says, there was a time when that would have been my ideal night out. Now I'm not so sure. I've got work straight after as well. It sounds like the kind of thing that'll give you a headache.
I'll tell you all about it anyway. :-)
No comments:
Post a Comment