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Forward March
The Danes have this wonderful saying: 'Lunch without schnapps is just breakfast.' Certainly in my one and only lunchtime restaurant experience in Copenhagen, there was a whole, separate Schnapps menu, and it somehow seemed completely normal. I've been thinking about such things as news filters in about the current crop of Arctic storms belting Europe about the ears. If the implied efforts of the tabloid press and shout-louder-than-everyone-else electronic media are to be believed, then people are freezing to death in their cars and stalled trains are disappearing beneath the snow, their occupants surviving for short periods only on the bugs they can find crawling out of the air vents. In such a climate, schnapps is, of course, entirely appropriate, and almost certainly capable of prolonging life in a harsh environment.
Here in sunny Sydney, however, we have only just made the first move to say goodbye to the long, beer-fuelled party that is summer, and are still doing the rounds of saying goodbye to everyone, which, as we know, is often the longest part of the evening.
And so it is that my return to the wondrous folds of the running fraternity has been principally on the treadmill in front of a giant fan on its fastest setting. And this is fine, for at this stage of proceedings it suits my purposes and keeps me out of the hot sun. As things cool down, I will revert to the streets and trails around here a little more to add some variety, but for now it's softly, softly.
I've now logged a healthy string of successive short runs, although this morning's effort was the hardest of them all, suggesting I may have underdone the rest days a little. No matter, I survived it and feel much better for having completed it more or less successfully. Other than today's tougher-than-expected session, it's been fairly smooth sailing thus far, other than a couple of blisters caused by a poorly considered shoe/sock combination during a cross-training fast walk. Oh yes, I'm even doing some cross-training. Heavens!
Looking forwards a little, I'm hoping to log a modest, but honest 100km or so this month as a reasonable base upon which to build whatever springs to mind for thereafter.
We'll see what transpires. I don't think there'll be any schnapps, though. That's definitely a cold-weather drink, and it also makes me fall off the treadmill.
More soon.
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Forward March
