Last weekend - that's so last week - but I couldn't blog it at the time because as fate would have it our router died and I spent much of my treasured Sunday morning talking to a lady from India- she may have actually been in India - I don't know - neither of us were in the mood to converse much.
On the Saturday the forecast had been for high winds and very mixed sun and rain - and low temperatures. The obvious but exceedingly tedious thing to do was to run to North Berwick. We decided to jazz it up by making it a race. Peter and I would set off at the same time but I would drive to Musselburgh and he would run. We would try to meet up about Aberlady. How you try to do this kind of thing would take much calculation, or my preferred method, hand it all over to the fates. It worked out pretty well.
The weather was kind of wild but okay until I was coming out of Prestonpans and running beside the Power Station and into Seton Sands. The sky behind me darkened deeply and I could see that things were going to get tricky. I couldn't remember why I hadn't brought a water-proof - but I hadn't...and I was in a running vest. The cloud released its contents, and to my surprise, it was hail, sharp pellets of hail on my poor cold damp bare skin. I was going to take a picture but the hail intensified and I ran for cover instead.
Rescue was at hand. The kind ladies in the The Studio hair stylists opened the door and called me in. In seconds I was warm and dry in the perfumey air of a hair-dressers. I stood and watched forlornly as the hail rattled down. They offered me a seat and water and coffee God Bless Them. Go there and get your hair cut! If Peter didn't cut my hair I would go there! (Ahah, I hear you say. That explains a lot.)
Anyway, who knew, or could have factored in the hail storm. At the same time, it turns out, Peter was having a blister epic in Prestonpans and was in a cosy chemists sticking plasters on his feet as the hail bounced off the pavement.
Soon the sky cleared and the day was bright and beautiful - although cold and harsh too. Just before Aberlady I heard the characteristic outbreaths of a running PB and I knew that we had liaised.
The rest was a slow bimble on tired legs along the beach. Another Saturday. Another 20 miles done. I'm on temporary wi-fi internet, which is a bit dodgy, until we get our new router.
Peter has far more photos and the other half of the story, if he ever gets round to posting.
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