February 2016

[Sweder]

A funny old Sunday. Set off at 08:10 for a pre-Twittens downland jaunt with CC5, all fairly routine. The trails of gloopy porridge of recent weeks had turned to Blu-Tac, pleasingly sticky, yet firm underfoot. The youngster reckons he was struggling but he set such a decent pace we had to add on half a mile around the town to avoid shivering for ten minutes before the fun started.

A band of eight hardy souls rocked up for the Twitten Run today, including four Moyleman organising committee members and two ladies. The pace was not as quick as last week but I found the going just as tough. Friday night's Blackcap run was still in my legs. Whereas last Sunday I felt able to run upright at the top of each Twitten, relaxing into the last 30 or so metres at a fair clip, today's finishes resembled an ugly scuttle. 

Coffee and race chat helped restore feeling to my numbed extremities, wind-chill in the order of minus five or so. I loped home with Duncan and Ellie and felt so good that I slurped a gel and set off again, this time for a hilly woodland three mile loop with the hounds. My pace may be off but stamina seems to be seeping back into my legs. Encouraging stuff. 

All told around 17 kilometres, with those cheeky hill sprints chucked right in the middle. 

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

...  All told around 17 kilometres, with those cheeky hill sprints chucked right in the middle. 

Bloody hell Sweder, you'll be running The Moyleman next. Great effort!

[Sweder]

No, I won't