I got home to a gorgeous smell of slow cooking beef and ale stew tonight (i'm having it with some crusty bread π).
I set off, and immediately started encountering problems. A turning bin lorry sprawled across the road and most of both pavements. Four kids on scooters riding abreast. Three cars at a crossroads beeping horns at each other and refusing to give way.
By the time i'd got clear after changing speeds, dodging, and running in the road, i was in a right grump, and spent the first couple of Ks muttering to myself, just wanting to get home to my tea.
At about three and a half K, i suddenly realised i was feeling pretty tired. I checked my watch and realised all the faffing had knocked my pace right off. I'd run each k so far about 20 seconds faster than my previous fastest pace.
How i managed to hang on for the sick feeling, lung bursting, leg sapping last bit i don't know - but i did!