MORE COWBELL

Once again circumstances conspired to rob me of sleep and one might have thought dent my ambitions. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, today's run to work was my best for a long time and I felt as strong as I have felt all month.

Last week work stuff went bad and I was up until silly o clock on Thursday night. Friday was a shitty day on the road. The thing that went bad last week was attempted again last night, which meant I was up late working. I finally got to bed at about 02:45, although I had grabbed a couple of cheeky naps in a chair before that. My final joking email of the night said something along the lines of "I'm off to bed for 90minutes." Oh fate how I love to temp you. On the dot of 04:15 Harrie woke up and so did I. I got her back to sleep and went back to AJ's floor where I was sleeping. Alex wakes early and I was positioned to block her path to the parent's room so Sal could get a half-decent sleep before work.

Alex, of course, woke just after 5am. A warm milk bribe got her back to bed until what sounded like a rat or a possum in the roof had us both wide away at about 05:30. Sod it, the bakery opens at 6 and they sell coffee. Sal was awake by now so I grabbed AJ and Rowlf and we did a coffee run. Considering how little sleep I'd had I was feeling OK. Sal left for work and I took the girls to daycare. Time to hit the road.

My car key and the small tin of vaseline I carry in the top pocket of my backpack were banging together and doing a very good impression of a cowbell. This was not even remotely annoying; in fact cowbell is a great sound and motivates runners and cyclists the world over. It probably bugs the shit out of cows, but there you go. An ever so slightly different route to the Spit avoided a couple of small, annoying hills. Parriwi came and went and at the lights in Mosman I almost forgot to crack my bottle of water. I felt good and was running well along Military Road. In fact I was a little concerned and made a conscious effort to slow it down a bit. But I didn't slow down. I relaxed into my running but my average pace kept rising. I wasn't flying along, don't get me wrong. But I was ache free, form was good and I felt as if I could just keep going.

My theory is this. Staying up late meant I was drinking more water last night and I was therefore better hydrated. I must be mentally fatigued; after all I did a day's work in the office, ran home and then worked 5:30 until 02:45. But I think I reached a state of tiredness where the brain does not bother about the body. The body is in good shape and, free from the evil intrusions and tricks of a mind trying to make me stop, it just keeps going. A lot of those niggles and feelings of fatigue are tricks of the mind. Anyway, that's my theory. Not sure it will hold true for the run home, but it certainly worked on the way in.

I took the Bridge steps two at a time and decided, after a little uming and ahing, to grab a couple of cheeky extra km on the way in and do a 10mile commute. Instead of heading for Barangaroo I turned east and around the Opera House. A couple of quick tourist pictures then through the Botanical Gardens, up to Martin Place and then down to King Street Wharf to make sure the garmin clicked over 16km and a bit.

I do wonder if I'll pay for this on the way home, but for now...I feel GREAT.

By midday my feeling of greatness had subsided and I decided to call it a day at 13:30. It looked - and was - oppressive outside. Humid and drizzle, very still. So it was a workmanlike trip home. Legs still felt good and I made good progress, but it was simply the commute home and there isn't much more to say about it.

So there you have it, 27km and a bit in about two and half hours today. Best of all...only a week to go. I'm puling into the home straight.