This runner's world: Easter Weekend

Monday, 22 April 2019

Easter Weekend

I've missed a weekend. I think last weekend was when Peter and I were going to get a train to North Berwick but they were all cancelled, so we went to Dunbar instead. We were going to run to Gullane or Aberlady or Longniddry or somewhere but then at East Linton we diverted to Haddington along the river. It's all been covered in Peter's blog.

So let's just start with this Easter Weekend, for which the sun has come out and stayed out. I nearly didn't take the easter weekend off, having the option to stay in the office with a skeleton crew, and it was really just laziness that persuaded me to take it off. I'm so glad I did. Peter and I had both, independently, done hard sessions on Wednesday and Thursday, so we were in the mood for taking it easy on Friday. Peter had some plan to get pictures of the Holly Blue butterflies before anyone else did, and he had a map of where all the holly bushes were around Gullane and Aberlady. We found plenty of holly but there was no sign of no blues. I didn't care and just loafed around taking pictures of anything.

This is my new favourite thing. Hahaha.

What butterflies there were were moving faster than I was. And the birds. Thank goodness for the rather more sedate crows.

In the woods the Speckled Woods were back in their favourite spot.

The sun, although welcome, was exhausting, and it made me reflect on just how hard it could be at Edinburgh Marathon if it's too hot. I resolved to do as much warm weather adaptation as I can before then.

The next day I didn't want to run very far and had said to Peter I might cycle to the Park Run and do that. He poured a big vat of scorn on my head about it, but then Nick was in touch saying were we doing anything and before I knew it we were ALL going. In stark contrast to 2 weeks ago, the sun was out again and it was warm, and PB went from muttering blame words under his breath to clearly quite enjoying himself as we had a pleasant cycle to Cramond and arrived early.

Nick in his Bawston Top.

I had a much better run than the last 2, despite it being much too warm. So although I came quite close to puking on the line I was in a good mood for the rest of the day. We were just about to head when I heard a familiar voice call my name and there was Shelagh McLeish, who I haven't seen for ages.Then also rocked up Douglas Young and Willie Murray and John Forker; all Porties who were already well established when I turned up in 2005. We had a good chat about how the kind of old we are isn't the same kind of old that old used to be. It was delightful to see them.

Then PB and Nick and me went for coffee and cake, and then a cycle to Cammo because, ahem, butterflies. There were some peacocks patrolling the paths and some orange tips dotting around. Peter disappeared into the bushes. Nick remembered he had a show to go to in town. I had a stand in a tree for a while and then cycled home to enjoy looking up my for age percentage on my Park Run result.

The next day didn't go so well. When I got up, not quite at the crack of dawn, the news was that something had happened to the internet. Peter was away to Tentsmuir with Nick and I was planning to do some kind of long run. But first of all I wrestled with the internet for some time. I spoke to people with Welsh and Brummy accents on the phone, who told me things I didn't quite trust. I was trying not to get too caught up in it, but I've got trouble letting problems be at times. Meanwhile the day was heating up. I used a little bit of the precious data on my phone to find out if the trains to North Berwick were running properly - but I could see a couple of them had been cancelled, and if it was like last weekend then in all likelihood they'd continue to get cancelled all day. I checked out the buses and saw that the Sunday service from North Berwick is pretty thin. I'd kicked around a few long run routes in my head and in the end, perhaps lazily, settled on Edinburgh to North Berwick.

Now it was 1pm and there really wasn't any time for much thinking. I headed out the door and hoped it would work out okay. It was pretty hot. And my legs were stiff. After a couple of miles I was beginning to loosen off however. Maybe it would be okay...

Portobello Prom was horrific, but I expected it to be. I took the straightest line I could to save energy and did my best to edit out the crying babies, barking dogs, milling people, tripping children, scooters, mobility scooters, people on sticks and in wheelchairs, smells of hot-dogs and ice-cream and cigarettes. Bleah.

By Musselburgh I was very warm and took refuge in the Shell garage. I had a cold drink and a protein bar under a shady tree and felt better.

After that I was trying to figure out what the hell to do. I COULD run to North Berwick but I wasn't going well and couldn't stand the thought of the windy, sandy paths along Longniddry Bents on tired legs. But the wind was getting up behind me now. I could feel it wrapping my own heat round me. I thought I'd run on to the Co-op at Prestonpans and have another think. By the time I got there I was nearly dead, but I hoped some caffeine and some food and drink would maybe pick me up. But it was now mid to late afternoon and truly hot and I was truly tired. There was no way I was going to run to North Berwick - particularly as there was likely to be shenanigans with transport home. I ran on to 10 miles thinking well maybe I could turn around there and plod out a slow 20.

This was the view from Prestonpans Co-op carpark. The fact I even took it tells a story. What was I even thinking?

When I turned around at 10 miles the news was bad. There was now a fairly strong and quite hot south-westerly wind in my face. I hung in there for another few miles but as I was coming back round the corner into Musselburgh I flung in the towel and got a bus.

Alas, my suffering was not over yet. The bus was slow and crowded - then we had to change bus as there was allegedly a fault with the heating. We were decanted from one hot bus to another.

There was a woman behind me arguing rather belligerently with someone on her phone. She was saying something which sounded disparaging to someone called Susan. I turned my head slightly to see if I could see her. What I saw was...no phone!...Was she Susan? I hoped at least that I wasn't Susan. After that I kept my eyes front until it was time to get off. By the time I got off the bus my legs had set like concrete, and it cost a lot to get them moving again. I'd run less than 13 miles and was missing the sweet taste of success. When I got home there was still no internet, which meant not only no on-line fun but no Netflix. How did we ever watch the normal telly? Was it always so bad?

Somewhere around 8.30pm the internet flowed back up the lines and into our flat. Aaah. That was better.

So at last we get to Monday. I don't know if Jesus did anything particular on Easter Monday. I thought the main events took place Friday-Sunday. Perhaps on Monday he was just taking a time-out from being in his cave and having fun surprising the bejeezus out of his some time mates, the apostles. (Some of them looking a bit shame-faced.)

Anyway, whatever Jesus did, I was determined to make a better job of today than yesterday. I looked at what my marathon training schedule wanted me to do; 6 miles with some 400m efforts. Well I could so that...but I didn't feel much like it. Instead it entered my head to go and recce the adjusted route for this Saturday's Hunter's Bog Trot. The radical road has been closed because of rock fall for some time, so the route was going round the top of the crags as in other years, but also incorporating a middle section which climbed up towards the seat by one path and down again by the next. I'm not sure that I've understood this middle section, but it doesn't really matter. Someone will point us in the right direction on the day. (If I do it.) I went up one path and then came down the tourist route up. It's hard, or maybe impossible, to stay completely in control coming down that path, because the path has lots of little tiny stones like ball-bearings. I'm not sure everyone enjoyed my thunderous descent as much as I did, complete with one legged skates, daring leaps, milling arms and shrieks. Oh well.

It is honestly a quite lovely route, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, but a lot of that will be to do with going at a moderate and manageable pace all the way.