Saturday, 15 March 2014

gloom and doom

What a dreary time of the year. Nothing seems to be going smoothly or well except perhaps the training. In an effort to taper for Alloa, I did some miles on Friday with Lucy out the JMW beyond N Berwick. It was a very grey day and hardly worth carrying the camera. However it was the best possible way to get some fresh air at a relaxed pace leaving Saturday blank as a token taper before the Alloa windfest on Sunday.

Looking at the forecast for Alloa last week I could hardly believe it was the epicentre of a hurricane that grew from midweek and dispersed the day after the half marathon. Perfect timing for the perfect storm. If there is one way to ruin Alloa Half it is a strong headwind along the bottom of the Ochils. Several miles of exposed running that will blow any chance of a half decent time. Makes me wonder if it's worth getting up at dawn to make the Porty party bus tomorrow. Not really.

Thursday night and I went over on my ankle at Wintervals. Round the back of Hunters Bog and stepped on uneven ground. I hobbled for a bit, then it slowly recovered only to do the same, 5 minutes later. I finished the session but put on some strapping when I got home. Next day and it wasn't too bad. I did a lot of massage and rubbing with the magic stick, a cross between a foam roller and a rolling pin. I ran up the road and caught the train to North Berwick. I spent the 30min train ride with my shoe off rubbing the ankle back to flexible. It behaved on the run although I could sense echoes of the injury every time we crossed tussocky ground.

I hadn't seen Lucy for a while and catching up with all the chat brightened up a grey day. We ran for about an hour on the John Muir Way, past Stink Farm (the volume was all the way up to FULL STINK AHEAD) turned around just on the outskirts of East Linton, and ran back. Lucy said she wanted to run for 2 hours exactly, as we climbed the stairs to her flat it was 1.59.37. Cup of tea and slice of (possibly homemade) fruit cake, very nice, then jump on the train home. If I had done those 14 miles round Arthur's Seat I'd have hated every minute. Or had to play the mp3 player loud enough to drown out my complaints.

Must go and roller my legs for tomorrow's wasted race.

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