I woke up this morning feeling as if my eyes had been glued shut. Fair enough, I had been coughing my lungs up between 00:10 and 00:45, but even so, I was far more tired than I thought I should be. Could be all the running I suppose. The nightcap of Lemsip max and Robitussin are supposed to avoid that. Bugger. On the plus side, the Scholl moisturising cream I had smeared on my toes last night seemed to have softened the tough bits and I could walk properly. I thought very briefly about having a shave and decide against it - Sal is away, it's winter, sod it. Temperature was supposed to be about 9 degrees, but to me it felt colder than the supposed 7 degrees of yesterday morning. Again I put it down to the running having depressed my body's central heating. A brisk walk and a coffee had me sorted.
Where to go today? With a set-off time a little after 7am I could again knock all my miles out in one go. Not many options for the route because I am contractually obliged to end up at work, that and I wanted to get 21km done. So it was straight to the bridge and then I decided to head along Barangeroo, back around the foreshore eastwards and over to finger wharf and Russell Crowe's apartment. I don't know Rusty and wasn't going to pop in for a cuppa; I just know where he lives when he's in town. It's not exactly a secret, what with the 14mil he paid for it setting a record for a flat - sorry, apartment - in Sydney.
I managed to get somewhat pissed off as I came across the bridge. I attempted to say hello - a simple nod, smile and raised hand - to each of the 5 runners I passed as they headed north. Not one - NOT ONE - gave a half decent response. Not one. Now picture the scene; it's about 10degrees, perfect running temperature. The sky is clear and blue and there is little-to-no wind. Perfect. You are running over Sydney Harbour Bridge, looking out onto the Opera House and over the harbour, which is a thing of sublime beauty. The sun is low in the sky and the harbour surface is sparkling. Given all of the above - why so fucking miserable? Sheesh...Some of the folks running around the Opera House and Botanic gardens were friendlier and I therefore assumed they were tourists.
The daily slog get me to Finger Wharf at about 16km and I stopped to take a some pics, none of which had Russell Crowe in them. Then I headed back west and towards the office, which I reached at just under 22km. Once again knackered, once again pleased to get the miles done. My eyes stung with sweat and as I rubbed them I felt the unmistakable grittiness of sweat-salt in my eye sockets. Yum, yum!
What more can I say about today? Well, at about 7km and maybe before I thought "I'm doing this the hard way" and until the end of the run had The Beastie Boys "Three The hard Way" going through my head. And I'm not one to run with music (sorry Audiofuel, I still love your work, even if I don't consume it.)
Lunch was footlong meatball sub on the Italian herb bread with Swiss cheese and all salads. Pretty sure this used to be fatter and damn near impossible to eat without wearing some of it. That said, at $7 it is a good feed and it did hit the spot. I think I need to get my calorie intake up. And, after 8 days, I finally went to buy some cereal and yogurt to leave at work. Arriving at work, starving, I tend to buy my breakfast rather than bring it in my backpack where, after 100-odd minutes of jiggling the fruit would be pureed and the cereal mashed.
No comments:
Post a Comment