I slept in again today. After going to bed filled with work exhaustion but without the satisfied fatigue that comes from exercise I had a light sleep which was frequently interrupted by scrabbling kittens
I settled down to read my fell runner magazine.
Two hours later having gorged my breakfast I was fuelled and ready for a run.
It had been my plan to fire my legs up for tomorrow's North of England cyclo cross championship with a run. Let's face it, sitting on my arse and easy walks have not given me an answer so far so I am trying the Smithy approach.
I started heading for the Rivelin Valley but regretted it as soon as I hit the ice and cold still air lingering at the bottom of the valleys. I gave it a chance as a little boy in the playground muttered to his dad, "jogging? Really?". I said I thought his bum must have been cold on the swings. Sure enough though, I headed up the first available hill over Stannington and dropped over into the much more open Loxley valley.
Faced with a gate tied shut with unfathomable string knots I gave up on a trail run and turned for home. By the time I got to my road I had done close to 10km so I ran on up the hill a moment longer to nudge the distance over.
I headed into the loft for stretching with the kindle to research some events. There, staring me in the face was the carshare league and a quick review of the numbers made me think, "I'll do that!" One sanity check later and I decide I am not going to get any better at running if I don't do some running races. And that is how I entered my first British counter fell race.
It's silly really but feels right and has set me back on a track of better discipline, healthy food and early nights.
Goodnight.
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