Stoptober 2012

[Sweder]

The golf tour is over. We're still in Cork (at the airport, waiting for the flight home), and I've flicked my resolve back on as easily as hitting a light switch. The debauch was not as ugly as I'd feared, nor the damage so great I can't put it right this week. I'll run later, just to underline the return to boot camp.

I wore the Garmin during rounds two and three. Fota Island's Barryscourt course racked up an impressive 8.09 miles, yesterday's Castlemartyre flog a mere 7.44. Yes, I'm bagging these as cross-training. The elevations will show the undulating terrain. I can assure you, Guinness-lag notwithstanding, it was a physical test, enough for SP see a need to take buggies on both days. Once again, for what seems like yet another in a long line of these events, I finished as the bridesmaid, losing out to a high handicapper who played out of his skin. At leat I was in his group and could take pleasure from watching him rip the course - and the contest - apart. C'est la vie.

I have a writing project in the mix. I had occasion to revisit my Two Oceans race report this weekend. What a pile of tosh. I'm not fishing here, it truly is a train wreck of a report. Unsurprising, given the nature of the race and the immediacy with which I hacked out the piece. Even so, I cannot let it stand, so I'm taking it off for a Director's Cut.

Food-wise I did OK. I did get stuck into a communal bowl of skinny fries yesterday, and I may have eaten half the ciabatta off a steak sandwich, but that aside I've stuck to my guns. I'm on the wagon now, with no fixed finish in sight. Training runs are set to increase from now until Almeria. This is it, time to admit I'm in training, not just base building. I'm ready.