Shanghai Cobble Torture
Awoke with the Mother of all hangovers. Dry mouth, banging head, aching all over. I wouldn't mind, but my total intake the night before was 2 x Guinness and 2 x Erdinger, hardly a World-class bender. C'est la vie.
Today was always ear-marked as a gym session day. A glance across the busy Huangpu river told me the air quality in the city was about as good as it gets. Dropping my gaze to the near bank I spied what appeared to be, from 21 floors up, a park. That settled it. Road runners, Almeria Vermillion top, Lewes FC shorts, Runkeeper (remarkably functional given the Chinese penchant for blocking any form of web-based mapping tool) and a last swig of H20.
A cool yet sunny morning met my early staggering steps. Running riverside I copped a welcome breeze, greeting passing wide-eyed locals with a half-Shearer and mumbled 'Knee How'. The 'park' was little more than a collection of shrubs and the occasional bizarre sculpture (see pic) set in an ocean of concrete and cobbles. All told I managed 5.64 kilometres at medium pace, finishing with something approaching a sprint - well, a faster lumber, anyway. Close to a 40-minute pounding left my under-constructed legs in tatters. In better news, the hangover had more or less sweated its way out.
Tonight I'll fuel up on pasta and stick to Guinness. Must have been that dodgy German brew that did the damage.
This road to recovery is long and torturous. Next week needs to be a whole lot better.
