After Camerageddon, I lent my camera to Peter for a while and he gave me an old one of his to use. It was okay, but much harder to zoom in with. We went a very nice run around Gullane, but taking 3 hours to do a 1 hour run. Weekends are short and I was beginning to protest.
The next day we planned a run with Nick in the Lammermuirs. I was a bit worried about going to the hills with these two as they are a million times faster than me and very hard to control. I wanted to make sure and get a proper run in and not also end up just standing around contemplating my navel while Peter danced around in the short heather looking for adders. There was a bit of this early on but then we got moving. I had it in mind that I'd like to take my Strava CR back up the big hill. (Yes it's that vague). I didn't know exactly where the segment started or where it ended - all I knew was which hill it went up and that I had it and then some girl took it off me and ever since then I'd been trying to get it back. I set off to run steady and ignored Nick and Peter as they jogged past me talking. I puffed my tugboat heart out and was very glad to stop at the top for a breather. Then we headed on to the big windmills at 7 miles. I hadn't been running hills very much so was aware I'd probably suffer for this later, but I was enjoying it at the time. There was a hot sun and a cold breeze. A nice combo for running. Nick was moving well up the hills, haunted, in advance, by the spectre of his run with Nasher at the SIPR the following weekend..
I got home and uploaded my Garmin data to Strava and to my delight I had indeed re-taken my CR.
This is a sentence straight out of Brave New World, isn't it?
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This Saturday was unavoidably wet. For a while it looked like East Lothian might miss out on the general soaking that Scotland was getting. It looks like contenders in the Scottish Islands Peaks Race maybe did miss the rain, but it fell on Edinburgh and East Lothian fair and square. We scrapped any plans of going anywhere, and after a few hours of stalling I announced I was going out and round Arthur's Seat, ready or not. Peter, realising that if he didn't come with me he would most likely not go out at all, came too. We hadn't been communicating well - or at least I assume so. We'd had a conversation like this P - "What way are you going?" Me - "I'm going to go up to the top of Arthur's Seat as quick as I can" (thinking more Strava segments you see). Later; me heading off up the path at Arthur's Seat. P - "You didn't say we were going off road". Me - "Yes I did. I said we were going up to the top of Arthur's Seat". Me - "what shoes are you wearing?". P - "road shoes".
Both imagine how the combination of road shoes, wet grass, steep slopes and a camera might work out.
We were all right though. Peter kept his physical and mental balance and his camera survived unscathed. We were chatting again and I forgot about Strava Segments until it was too late. There was a crow and a snail. It's amazing how quickly you forget the winter and all that hardship. Under harsh conditions you make the best of any fun you can find....
The next day I had a need to do a decent run though. The marathon is looming up and I have been feeling less runny every day. My legs have been sore and jumpy. I started googling jumpy, restless legs and the first few google entries were about opiate withdrawal. Wait, could it be lack of running that was making my legs like that? Was it some kind of endorphin withdrawal?
Sunday.
I wanted to run 10 miles, and I wanted to run them all in a row, at a hardish effort and with no stops for butterflies at all. I made this clear from the start. Sometimes Peter just goes along to get along and hopes I'll forget what I've said. So I had to make it clear, clear, clear. He saw that I meant it and then we started to make realistic plans about how that might work. Depending on what he found in the butterfly world he might chase me round. If the natural world was all a-flutter, he might meet me back at the van in about 2 hours. I never did the maths that, even for me, even for off-road, 2 hours was a bit long for 10 miles. I set off feeling better than I had the day before and was well past half way by the hour - I was also realising there was no chance the route I had planned was 10 miles. I had looked at an old map of it on Strava which had said 10.3, but it must have been some variation of the usual route and I hadn't noticed the difference. I had forgotten about the possibility of Peter chasing me as I headed back up through Archerfields. I was enjoying running and I had kept up a good effort all the way. Suddenly a whole fly flew into my eye and I had to stop to get it out. It must have been one of Peter's flies sent ahead to warn me, as I turned around and there he was, galloping up the road.
A bit of hard blinking and the whole fly rolled out and I was good to go. We raced on towards the finish without slowing down to chatting mode. We arrived back at the van, 11 miles in the bag, pleased with ourselves. Peter said he ran very hard to catch me but had felt strong. My legs felt the best they'd felt all week and I felt more confident about running again.
So the marathon is very soon. I wish I felt better. I went out for a run today and my legs felt like they weren't on the right way. I went to Feldenkrais and went to stretch out my feet and the right one nearly went into a full cramp - I just pulled back from the brink at the very last moment. I don't get cramps. I think I must be short of magnesium or something. Or maybe opiates.
Probably by the time we speak again, it will have all happened.
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