These last few weeks have been a bit stop and start, but more stop. Saying that, I'm not too hung up about not running. Its just a hobby and while I'm a big fan of the snow, I'm no fan of the ice.
I graced the abandoned clubhouse with my presence on Thursday night. It was deserted. I was about to turn around and leave the forlorn lonely shed when a couple of others from the group appeared out of the icy murk. We picked out a route and churned out a prompt 40 minute warm up with another 12 minutes of fast stuff before mincing back down the hill as fresh sparkly ice crystals formed below our feet.
Today was a 14 mile beasting on my todd to the Dyke Neuk Pub on a snow free 'B' Class road and then back on an unclassified road (which was a mistake. Quiet? yes. Ice free? No. Tippy-toeing around like Bambi on some stretches). The hedges were completely free of berries, robbed by the starving bird life. There were few cars on the road though and I felt pretty strong throughout the run, getting round in 1:40.
On the way out I came to the conclusion that there's two sorts of drivers. Those that give you plenty of room and those who think it's their duty to keep the car straight and, by doing so, force you into the verge with half a metre to spare because you're on their side of the road. We love them really.
Anyway, I read on someone's blog that its 20 weeks to the London Marathon, so I suppose I'd better conjure up a battle plan even though I'm threatening to run in a morph suit and casually wave for 26 miles to the masses as I pass all those famous people and places. Perhaps I should arrange for some out-riders.
Aunt Aggie's particularly fired up because she thinks she's coming too. I haven't had the bottle to tell her she's got to stay at home to watch the dog. Thinking about her sitting there in front of the fire watching Downton Abbey with the collie at her feet in her matching morph suit is a bit scary. I didn't know they did morph suits for dogs.