25 August 2008

One too many mornings

I ran last Wednesday, with the Excise Men, or two of them at any rate: about 20 minutes warming up on the way to the meeting point (Cleopatra's Needle), then a trot down to Westminster Bridge, across to the South Bank (which at that point is actually east) and follow the Bridges Race route, then carve a path through the tourists to reach the back of County Hall (does anyone still remember when it was County Hall?) and follow the quiet streets to Blackfriars Bridge, where we cross the river again and I break off to head back to the office (walk-and-run, about fifteen minutes). A very silly way to come back from injury, but apart from a twinge in my left calf at the far end of the route (of course it would be the far end! - bu the MI6 building) it seems better.

A session with Sharon on Friday left both my legs feeling tender, but that has passed and I am trying to stretch a little more. Inspired by Murakami and the Olympic Marathon, which I watched on Sunday morning having fallen asleep before eight and woken again just before the start, I essayed a gentle run this morning.I made it to the field (not a thousand miles from home, which would have fitted better with my choice of title, more like two), where I found Hilary and asked for a lift home. But a couple of miles is better than nothing: and perhaps the beginning of my next year tomorrow is the right moment to start to keep a log, train rigorously, average 6 miles a day and race as often as I can.

I have already taken the reckless step of entering for the Chippenham Half marthon, only three weeks away, so I hope this works.

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