2:46:07

I'm inching closer to the end of the Mall. This week started overcast and cooler - still low 20s - and I therefore decided that Tuesday would be the day for the next long run, the next push. So Monday was not energetic. I took the dog for a very short morning walk to the shops and back, the shops being where I purchased my bus ticket. No riding today. Lunchtime came and went with an hour of book reading and then there was a bus ride home. The midle bit, the work bit, was busy but uninspiring. Tuesday startd in a similar fashion, with another short walk and another bus ride and lazy lunch. I'd had a big muesli breakfast on top of which I put a chicken pasta and on top of that went a kiwi crush Gatorade. Five pm and time to hit the streets.

I stayed south of the Bridge or the first two hours so I could benefit form the flatter paths. The route took me through the Domain, around the Opera House and Farm Cove, cut throuhg Hyde Park to th Pyrmont Bridge and then around the waterfront of Pyrmont all the way to the Anzec Bridge. From here I retraced my steps to the Pyrmont Bridge and then headed down to and around the piers, towards the Bridge. Under the Bridge, around Circular Quay and once again around the Opera House and Farm Cove and up to the Art Museum thing in the Domain. Frm there I headed home. Back through the Botanical Gardens, across the Cahill walkway over Circular Quay and at around 2hours I got to the southern side of the Bridge. The crossing took 7:46 (I think) so I knew I was knackered. Typically I'll cross the Bridge in 6:30ish. From the north of the Bridge it was the uphill slog along the Pacific Highway to Crows Nest where the road statrs to slope down towards Naremburn and then to Willoughby. At 2:46:07 I was at the bottom of our road.

What sort of shape was I in? Well my right ankle and knee had been a tad sore throughout but held OK and I suffered no wobbles or weakness. About 10mins form home I thought I was favouring my right foot a little. I'm loathe ot attribute this to injury, rather what I call finish-line-anxiety; when you know you're almost finished your mind starts to play tricks on you. I'd taken on what I thought was plenty of fluids so didn't feel too dehydrated. I had, of course, sweated like a bastard. I'd had a Powerade on the go and stopped frequently (probably around every 20mins) at water fountains. In total I took on 1.2ltr of sports drinks and probably that again of water since 4pm, an hour before I started running. I guzzled more water when I got home.

I did a few stretches and then sat for a few minutes in a cold-water-only bath that was not particulalrly frigid. I sat in and splashed the cold water over my legs. Might help, you never know. I was feeling a bit wobbly and vague with exhaustion and probably some dehydration. My guts were churning a bit - though I'd stopped the farting I'd been doing on the run. I tried to eat some pasta but felt as if I was going to throw it back up, so went and sat back on the bog. As it turned out I did not chuck up, but my guts still felt tight. I lay down on the sofa, did a few gentle stretches and got up only to have some Eno (effervescent powder mix with water and guzzle stomach setling stuff) and to go to bed.

And this morning, a little sore and a little foggy in the head, I awoke feeling generally fine.

The picture is of an autocue I spotted on the way to work on Monday. Not sure why it was scrolling on a camera outside because the interview - with Rupert Everett, Chief of Parade at this year's Mardi Gras - was happening inside.