The rest of March.

I'm just going to have to make it up as I go along as frankly I have little clue what happened for the rest of March. I know we went back to Cammo on a sunny day with Nick W, to see if the friendly robin was real or if we'd just made him up. We'd told Nick and he said "Just for clarity, is it going to be like Snow White, and am I going to put my hand out and the birds will come and perch there?".

We assured him that that was about right. But we didn't know it was really true.

The next day I think Peter and Nick went and thrashed themselves with the Porty crew and I went a long marathon training run tout seul. There was a strong west wind and some heavy rain showers. It was supposed to be a 17 miler but close to home I realised it was going to be more like 16. I didn't bother extending it but thought I'd wait for less inclement weather.

The next weekend was supposed to be another long run, but Saturday was a day of sleet. I did consider doing a long run anyway...for a short while. Instead Peter and I went a run round Arthur's Seat. It was kind of fun and a long run wouldn't have been.

The next day I had a Feldenkrais workshop which was a shame because it was a beautiful day. Well it was a shame in terms of getting the miles in but was actually a jolly good workshop. Peter and Nick went and thrashed themselves again with the Porty Crew I think and I managed to knock out 9 reluctant miles but didn't love them.

Come the following Saturday Peter was off to do a 40 mile run up North with Graham Nash and Nick and somebody else. I didn't like to let the lads down but I wasn't available. I had to attend to my own long run. Missing a weekend's long run sets up a kind of guilty tension which is almost useful. In recent years I have avoided the road from Edinburgh to North Berwick as a long run route at all costs.  It is all tainted with bad long runs and horrible Edinburgh to North Berwick races and nasty marathon experiences. The road is littered with ghosts of myself all suffering in different kinds of ways. But it was blowing a stiff west wind and I couldn't be bothered fannying around with trying to get trains or doing circular routes or any of that so I set off out the door at about 11am (to Nick W's amusement. The boys had been up at 5 or before for their secret mission.) and just ran to North Berwick. It was a nice day and it wasn't too bad. I didn't bother carrying any fluids, just bursting into shops and using my contactless debit card instead. How very modern. I upped my longest long run distance from 16 miles to 22.5 miles in one fell swoop but hoped to get away with it, and I did.

Good advice at Seton Sands

That was pretty cheering. My average pace wasn't all that bad either despite 3 miles of off-roady sandy track. I must have done something the next day but I'm not sure what. Probably ate. Oh yeah the other part of that was that we were supposed to be doing the HW round the grounds 5K as it's a championship race - but the pressing need to do something long was just more insistent.

That Thursday, unusually, I was off, and I was missing the car and Gullane. Peter somehow freed himself from the day's commitments too. Does he even do anything? I don't know. None of my business. He was hoping for butterflies, but despite it being quite sunny, it was cold and there were no little flappers to be seen. I have given up berating him for making a day of disappointment by setting his expectations for the day in advance. It doesn't make a jot of difference. He was punishing the absent butterflies by declaring in a loud voice that he thought birds were better. There were precious few birds too. Maybe Nick was out singing in a woods nearby and all the local wildlife were there. (Lol.)

Anyway, it was good to be out of town. We ran 13 miles but slowly and my legs were tired and I thought maybe I'd ruined myself for my next long run.

Yesterday there was rain forecast for the morning and sun in the afternoon. Despite my late morning starts, I really hate waiting until the afternoon to run. I have usually pretty much gone off the boil by then and would rather be sleeping. This caused a party-split as Pierre wanted - well you know what he wanted. I just went out round Arthur's Seat and knocked out 6 miles. I had my "B" camera with me just in case I saw something too good to pass up. I saw the pheasant that seems to live up there. It is getting very tame.

Today Peter was off to Dunbar in search of...jeezo...you know. I, however, am all about the numbers now and my schedule was asking for 17 miles with 5 at marathon pace. This time it was sunny but with a fairly gentle easterly blowing. It was pretty cold though. I burst out the house at nearly 12 noon and set off down the road.

It was all going fine. Portobello was the worst bit in both directions. Why do people all collect together like that? It's horrible. It was the only time all day I was in a bad mood.

I saw some butterflies which may be as yet unclassified and I had to stop and take a picture for PB.

I figured Prestonpans Co-op would be about 8 and a half miles, so half way. Rather than carry fluids, I'd stop there and get a drink and maybe something to eat. I had a fizzy drink and bought a Mars Bar and hoped to get a coffee but an enormously tall fellow called George told me that the machine was "being cleaned". He had the manual out and I didn't think it looked good. Then I heard the people behind the counter laughing and saying that George had broken the coffee machine. I thought so. Anyway, I probably shouldn't be drinking coffee in the middle of my run. I was a bit disappointed though. I like a coffee and a Mars Bar. I styled it up in the Co-op car park for a wee while and then it was time for "5 miles at marathon pace".

So what pace would that be? Picking a number out of the air I thought I'd shoot for 8.40 pace. To my great delight I nailed the first mile exactly. Then in the next mile I upped the pace and ran 8.33. Surely I wasn't going to keep it up? That's right I wasn't. I wanted to have as much distance as possible before re-entering the territory of the Prom which would surely kill any pace I was trying to hold - so I went the windier and longer outer way round at Musselburgh. I was suddenly running into a headwind again which killed it all dead. 8.56 pace! Holy Smokes. Was that it? Was I done for? The next one was only fractionally better at 8.53. I got a bit of shelter coming back towards Porty and the last "mile at pace" was a more satisfying 8.36.  But that was me done for then. I tried not to get churlish making my way back through the swarms but inside I was churlish and if my thoughts were to be broadcast they would be something like this "fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off...." A new hazard has added itself to the general prom mayhem of dogs and kids and scooters and oldies and wheelchairs and fast bikes and runners which is people on "Just Eat" bikes which means they don't normally cycle, so they don't steer so well. Or pay any attention. I saw someone defying the "Just Eat" logo by not only cycling and eating but also smoking - but not looking or steering.

It was good to get past that. I wondered if that's why stupid people are called clots.

And then finally I was home. And now it's time to move on the the next thing. The government has stolen an hour off me I won't get back until October, so I better get moving.