On Saturday I was visiting the homeland, East Anglia, which is a much more agreeable terrain for a long jog. Maybe it’s because I’m from The Fens that I have such a problem with hills. I’m genetically built for the flat and, over generations of living there, maybe my family have evolved and lost whatever bit of muscle it is that allows us to get up (and down) a hill quickly without injury.

So I trotted out on Saturday afternoon with my hat and gloves on and was battered about by the wind as I ran round a big lake. 4.6 miles was just short of the 5 miles I was supposed to be doing, but I ran out of road and my measuring was a bit off.

The drinking ban which I’d tried to enforce on myself went out of the window on Saturdays night – partly because I thought I’d earned a few pints after a triumphant battle with the elements earlier in the day. As is the way when I’ve had a few drinks, I woke up really early on Sunday. This meant I got to watch the start of the Great North Run though which was a bonus.

It did spur me on to start thinking about what I’ll do after the 10K – other than collapse in a big heap. I’m now looking into a longer distance, maybe a half marathon to keep me motivated and keep me going on my mission to run a marathon.

2008-10-07T11:43:00+00:00 7 October 2008|