Sunday, 28 January 2018

flat light outwith the flat and gull wing gulls

I can't remember any of the fine tuning and details of last Sunday's run so bear with me and I'll just make some stuff up based on the pictures. It's been a long week. And a 5 week job was coming to an end. So my focus was not running. Of which I did not a jot between this run last Sunday and 5 days later on Saturday. And there were difficulties. Always difficulties.

The camera, the B Camera, was playing up to begin with, meaning that by the time I had stern words and got it sorted, Aileen (above) was already on her way home having run alongside for a bit of the Links.

Then Rabbie, below. Some of the Me Too gang, the mob forming to lynch all those who don't adhere to certain behaviour, were throwing their hats in the air about our National Bard and his birthday because, well because he wrote some poetry. I don't have strong feelings about those being condemned for Me Too behaviour or the Bard, but I don't think you can pretend to be invested in pc behaviour and celebrate Rabbie without being called a steaming great hypocrite. Because Rabbie was a drunk and a womaniser. This is NOT in doubt. Read this. So it would be hypocritical to be championing both, the Me Too-ers, and R Burns. His crimes against women are a couple of hundred years old but I don't think his poetry mitigates that. I was surprised nobody noticed this but not surprised at the shallowness of certain humans. A little bit of whisky and Tam O' Shanter goes a long way?

But all that is merely background white noise to the necessity of work. I would leave my bike in the rain for 9 or 10 hours then cycle home. Rusty orange chain. Next morning stepping heavily on the pedals and the chain snaps. Luckily near home. I thought I had a chain tool, could've sworn. Mary had one. 20mins later; and most of those scraping the filth off oily fingers, and stepping on the pedals again, but gingerly. 

Finally the job is hoovered and done but not before it robs me of Wednesday club run and Thurs Wintervals. I phone mum and she asks if I could pop round and help her up the stairs to bedfordshire, she is too tired to risk it without a back stop. I put my shoes back on. 

Back to last Sunday and marathon training. The day is dull and not worth driving anywhere. Pop some bread in a back pack and run along the coast to Cramond. I run with Mary for a couple of miles then pick the pace up to marathon pace (sub 7 min miling) and struggle to keep this ticking over to Cramond. How can it be possible I'll ever keep this going for 5 times this distance? In April. Oh well. The first bit of thrown bread hits the sand, none of the rest do. 50 black headed gulls fly over to circle and swoop taking the bread from my fingers. They know the format, and the Winter strictures sharpen their enthusiasm. Their feathery chests and wings beat against my hands as they barge and squawk, all pretence of shyness banished till Spring. The light is crap and so are the photos but I am thrilled by their proximity including a one-footed friend who catches my eye and is rewarded every circle with extra rations. I fetch more bread fingers out the bag on the ground and it is nearly empty. Someone has been pilfering! Scoundrels! I am pouring the crumbs out as Mary appears and we return by the cyclepath. 

fired out a cannon

mightily bushy

About a mile from home the snow falls heavily on Mr Heron

Now someone (Steve probably) highly recommended Terres De Galets.
The cat is waving, the bird chirruping and the Hula lady hula-ing. 

My indoor footwear (Nike Frees from a decade or more ago) have given up the ghost. I was looking at £40 slippers online, but unconvinced. Meanwhile I got these Hokas which will be worn (wetsuited) walking over the gravel from the car to the reservoir, and meanwhile at home. £24. Bargainatious! 

This though I am excited about! 

Picture it: height of summer, sun blasting down and 25 miles into a long run you pass a burbling stream. Dare you drink from it? Dead animals upstream, liver flukes, polluted water? Worry no more! Fill this 0.6lt softflask with dubious fresh water and it filters as you squeeze it through the mouthpiece filter into your gob. "Would you drink from the Water of Leith?" says Mary. Probably not! I doubt it is that good but hopefully it keeps the bugs and shit out "fresh" streams up in the hills. Roll on Summer!


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