Monday, 11 November 2013


My “plan” for the weekend had been to do 11 on Saturday and about 16 on Sunday, but for some reason this turned out to be 11 on Saturday and “ah feck it 11’ll do” on Sunday as well.
I was suddenly washed over by a deluge of “whats-the-bloody-point”?
Don’t get me wrong I actually enjoyed both runs. Beautiful crisp clear day yesterday especially – bit of frost on the ground – smell of damp leaves all around. Great.
But I’ve nothing major planed for anytime soon, so there really is no need, at the moment, to overdo it with the long runs.
It’s just that when you’ve been training you get used to it, and in the weeks immediately after the event you kinda feel guilty about not doing long runs.


The rest of my weekend was spent on important stuff. Like watching Breaking Bad, ploughing my way through a new Art Farmer six album box set (the most rich, warm tone ever to come out of a flugelhorn) and start reading a new Robert Goddard book. So. Telly, jazz and new books - all pretty vital stuff I’m sure you’ll agree.

Anne was locked up in the kitchen most of the weekend – something to do with Terry Wogan and bairns.

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