Hot jungle hell run and then an easier Sunday.

I had no intention of trying to do another long run this weekend and then I thought maybe I should. We were going to go to the Lammermuirs but the weather forecast was VERY iffy, warning of thunderstorms and downpours. I like a thunderstorm as much as the next man but is it really sensible to climb to the top of a hill in one? What happens if you're in the cloud and there's a thunderstorm? Is that a thing? Can that happen?

We decided to go to North Berwick and do the 18 mile loop. "It's beautiful" said Peter. I'd done it before and found it somehow strangely hard but maybe that had been just bad luck. And then I'd done it on a bike and found that strangely hard, but maybe that was also bad luck. Anyway, we were just going to do the run-walk thing, so how hard could it be?

It was 2.30pm or so when we rolled out the car at NB Law car park. It was stiflingly hot. We ran up to the top of the hill which was the last time I felt remotely fresh. There was a very good panorama of all kinds of weather. Then off we went along the JM way. Actually the first hour to hour and a half was kind of fun. I was trying not to get caught in stopping too often but I wasn't going fast so I knew Peter would catch up. But there's a kind of wet heat in the fields of long grasses, and the ground is uneven, and it seems to really take a toll on the legs.

Dragonflies.

Peter took us on a short-cut through a field which stopped running for a while and gave us some very wet feet. I was starting to lose my mojo by this time.

The thing was, we were now committed, mojo or no. I didn't know about my fancy arm until now.

The woods looked and smelled nice, but there were mosquitos and deep wet bits and a kind of hot steamy exhaustion everywhere. I don't think Peter noticed.

After we were out Binning Woods we were into the Moon whatever holiday holdings which has PRIVATE signs up everywhere. Somebody was having a wedding and I was tapping into some kind of irritable inner dialogue about people and their stupid weddings in the woods and their private signs and private landlords and then we were on the beach running into the wind and the sinky sand was hurting my feet and ankles. There was a smell of rotten fish on the air. And then we ran up a number of roads where there were no pavements and you continually had to watch out for cars coming and be ready to stuff yourself into a hedge if someone in a BMW felt too entitled to steer round an oik. I thought about how much I disliked this kind of country-side - the kind that is dominated by agriculture. Give me an open moor or a nice hill...

Peter was keeping a safe distance by this time. At long, long last we were coming into North Berwick and we knew we'd be passing the Tescos there so we went in for cold drinks and shared a cut price chicken and stuffing sandwich. This helped a bit. Particularly the cold drink. It was after 6pm and the children were tired.

It was only a little over 17 miles when we got back to the Berlingo waiting patiently in the car park, because that route is generally taken from the train station. I won't be hurrying back. It's probably all right if you're stronger and taller.

Today was just a cloudy day with a forecast of rain so we had a straightforward run of nearly 9 miles round Arthur's Seat with no cameras and no stopping.

So there goes another weekend. Tomorrow morning the Berlingo goes in for its MOT. I hope you will join me in a short prayer to Jesus to look kindly upon an old car. I meant to give it a clean but I'm exhausted. It will be going in as is in all its gull-shitty splendour.

A long run, a short run and three nights of the moon.

As I came down from the thrill of stupidly entering a 40 mile race, towards the end of last week it occurred to me that I really ought to do some training.
Not even training for racing well or anything like that, but just training for getting through it. What we needed was some time on feet - well a lot of time on feet - and at least a marathon in distance.
Before I did the Highland Fling in 2010 the longest run I managed was the marathon distance, and I was pretty much alright until 40 miles, so that was where I got my numbers from.
I doubt I've aged much in the last 9 years - just in case you were going to mention that.

Peter had some exciting butterfly plans for Saturday so I thought I might try something new. Many years ago Billy Minto had written about run-walking in a blog. You're supposed to walk for a portion of each mile, or whatever, and this can be a less damaging way of getting the miles in. I could see the logic of it but couldn't bring myself to try it as I already felt too slow and the only thing I really believed in was just try harder. Earlier in the year I bought some running books to try to get myself in the mood for marathon training, and among these books was one by Jeff Galloway, the entire thesis of which was that as you age the best thing you can do is start run-walking. I couldn't bring myself to do this for the marathon, but maybe it was just the thing to try for an ultra. The book itself had been pretty boring as it said the same thing on every page. In fact, when I looked for it, I realised that it had fallen victim to one of my sporadic clearances, when things get sent to the charity shop in order to create some space.

So I hatched a plan to take the train to Dunbar on Saturday morning and do my first ever run-walk either to Aberlady (25 miles) or on to Longniddry train station (28 miles). I decided I would run for 8 minutes and walk for 2 - which was fairly arbitrary - but you have to start somewhere with some numbers and these seemed about right.

Then by Friday afternoon I was flagging and thought I might just go for a small local run and hoover the flat instead. God knows, it is about time. But then Peter decided to not do the butterfly walk, which looked likely to be wet, and come with me instead.

I warned him in advance that the run-walk thing was going to happen and I wouldn't be at all receptive to him moaning about it, but I needn't have worried.

We're not always an efficient army, but we got ourselves up to Waverley in the morning, without much bother. This journey is helped by the fact that we both like the 99p filter coffee at Pret a Manger. The Dunbar journey is quick and easy. Everything was on time. It was the Plymouth train and we were only glad we weren't going all the way. There were squaddies on our carriage and things were already getting messy as they opened some cans and a bottle of Buckfast and their conversation became increasingly impassioned....

It was a bit wet as we arrived, but nothing too bad. It was mostly warm and humid, albeit over-cast, so after a little shilly-shallying trying to synchronise the timers on our watches, off we jolly well run-walked.

We run-walked first of all to East Linton where we ate some cakey things. On the way there Peter saw a glimpse of Kingfisher but then couldn't get out his camera in time. This caused a bit of upset for a while, but some comestibles (I am Billy Bunter) calmed us all down and we were able to move on.

The run-walking was going down well, with Peter moving from sceptic to enthusiastic advocate, declaring quite early on that he liked the two minutes walking best!

Coming into North Berwick we had covered 14 or so miles in a rather shocking nearly 3 hours but it's not about that!!!! We were both hungry anyway so we had more comestibles. This time in the form of chips and sauce and a roll. Well there was still a long way to go. We were hungry and that focused silence fell over us - the sound of hungry people taking eating seriously, as we sat on the wall across from the North Berwick Fry. I can't remember the last time I had chips and I don't always like them - but they hit the mark.

Actually, we really must have been hungry, because heading down towards the shore to begin the next leg of our journey, as we passed the Costa, I suggested to Peter, without much hope, that maybe we should hop in there for a coffee and a cake. To my surprise he readily agreed and in very little time we were drinking coffee and eating...it was possibly tiffin.

But then we were off again. Sometimes the sun came out, most of the time it hid but it was really warm.

We ran past 'The Open', somebody called Rory was playing. The greens looked nice. I think that's what they're called. Our pal Bruce of the Fat Bikes maintains them.

It was hard to run past Gullane. There was a temptation to get onto the road, although in reality that would probably be worse, as then there's nothing to focus on except the fact you're getting tired and achy. As we arrived at Aberlady Bay the sun was pretty bright. Peter was delighted but I find it all a bit much, preferring the shady places. Too much light and my peepers can't take it. It was all a bit surreal by then anyway.

We had promised ourselves beers or whatever when we got to Aberlady. At that point we would evaluate our condition and formulate our next moves. The path back to the road was hoaching with butterflies and Peter was in his element. I eventually just had to run off and in time he caught me up.

So we went to the Aberlady Inn where we had pints of soda and lime and Peter had a pint of cider and I had a pint of Aberlady ale and a packet of crisps. The barlady asked if we wanted to go and sit out the back in the beer garden which I thought was very nice and only later thought that maybe it was because we smelled. Anyway we went. I didn't take any photos so must have been using all my attention for necking beer and shovelling crisps. Every serious endurance athlete knows that nutrition and rehydration are key. But what next? Well my little toe hurt, so I wanted to get the bus. But we'd possibly spent too much money and couldn't get the bus!!!! Heck!!! And also the bus sucks. So we decided to run on. After a while of running my little toe shut up. We stumbled along to Longniddry station, by now rather addled with all that fresh air and what not. Quite proud of ourselves though. When we got to Longniddry the train had been cancelled. Boo!!! So we had to get the sucky bus. We now had enough money though, because we'd run to a new zone. They don't give out change so Peter went to the shop across the way to get some change and some snackz. The timetable said all the express buses were done for the day but shortly after Peter arrived back, one rolled up. It also took contactless payment so we needn't have worried about change or getting more snacks. Anyway, everything worked out just fine and we took it in our stride because drinking beer gives you an excellent attitude to adventure.

The sea at Longniddry was like a mill pond.

When I finally took my trainers off I discovered I had corpse feet, because they'd been wet all day. A bit of home surgery seemed to restore their function however. I hadn't planned to run the next day, but then it was a hot day and I thought maybe we could do a small, pathetic run and then go a swim in the sea. I don't know just how Peter subverted this into a proper run, albeit at snail's pace. But he did...

The place was bustling with bug life. I'll say no more about it because we all have lives to get on with. I'm aware of that.

So anyway, that night, as I was going to bed, I looked out the window and the moon was looking lovely and nearly full above Arthur's Seat, so I took some photos and the next night I posted them up on facebook.

Just after I'd put them up I looked out the window and lo-and-behold, there was a much, much better, much closer, even more full moon rising just behind the seat again. So I hung out my window and took pictures of that. It floated up into the air like an incandescent hot-air balloon. The colour was beautiful. I posted these pictures up the following morning and I was the toast of social media. 

I now felt almost personally responsible for ensuring there were decent images of the moon, so when I heard the next day that there was to be an eclipse, I kind of set my heart on seeing that too. Unfortunately there was quite a lot of cloud cover just around sun-set so it was already quite high in the sky and it was past my bed-time before it showed its partial face. Not actually half as good as the night before, but since I made the effort, here are some photos.

Goodnight.