a solstice slog

Was planning not to run this morning but the painters had started on the bathroom yesterday so I couldn't have a shower at home last night or this morning. Hmmmm. So last night, wife-free, I slept in my own grot (luckily the smell of paint was stronger than the smell of me) and this morning I ran to work and had a shower here.

Another run of two halves today and Plan A was to do the reverse of last night's run home. At some point I changed my mind, remembering that Jo was running in today. She would be heading over the bridge, so I decided I would run over the bridge, back and then over again. The deck is 1.5km so that would add 3 to the 7.5 it is to work and get me my miles. Easy. Before I got to the bridge I stopped to take a pic of the confusing TR7. It has been pointed out to me that with enough money you can make any car look half decent, so I guess it is not too confusing. I didn't meet Jo on the bridge, but I did do the first crossing a little quicker than I intended, thanks to seeing a bloke in front who I caught and decided I would pass. Pretty dumb this far into Juneathon and guaranteed a slow second crossing. Third was middling.

Last Friday in Sydney there was an event called the City Mile Dash. Name gives it away really. Someone had chalked on the wharf along which the even was run 'Are you tough enough?" I could not help but think, as I clocked up about 430km for the month, are you taking the piss? I stopped to take a pic anyway. For the record, the winner covered the up-and-down-on-dead-flat-concrete course in 4:04. Pretty fucking swift. Unlike me. Towards the end of the run I was looking at my reflection in office windows I passed in order to reassure myself that I was moving at all. I felt as if I was stationary and being beaten around the calves and thighs with cricket bats. Properly grinding the miles out today. Ho-hum, half of it done.


Well that was quite horrible. From the first step there was pretty much no link between my brain and body. What little communication there was told me that my feet were bags of sand roughly attached by knackered bits of elastic. It was a little surreal actually. I felt properly vague. I was moving, but I didn't seem to have a lot of say in it, rather it was just something that was happening. The first 4km were like that. The highlight of the run - other than it ending - was the bit around Farm Cove. The "very strong winds" we'd been promised turned up all of a sudden. I could see the line on the harbour that was the front rolling in. I thought I was in for a soaking, but there were only a few spots of rain. I really do not like split training and wish I had the time available to knock all my miles out in one go each day.

Glad today's running is over. Bleugh.