Storm Dennis has made himself felt in Kent. I haven’t slept very well these past few nights, what with the wind whistling and banging. I lay in bed thinking about that town in the film Volver, where the persistent howling of the East wind drove the inhabitants mad. (Great film, by the way). Then came the rain. I had this horrible moment last night when I thought I had left the bath running and water was pouring into the kitchen, it was so loud. Thankfully it was the skies opening rather than the faucets.
Then without warning, it stopped, and the sun lit up the orange bricks outside to a summer-like glowing bronze. “We are off!” I cried, and turfed myself into compression socks and my son onto his bike before we had a chance to think up a persuasive reason not to go. There was absolutely zero faffage; we went from reclining to running in under 5 minutes. In fact, I was probably more energetic in this ‘ejector’ stage than during the run, which I took nice and slow. We agreed in advance that he was free to talk, but should not expect me to; instead, I would respond with (polite) hand gestures and point at things. I KNOW we are meant to be running at conversational pace, but it’s like the straw that breaks the camel’s back for me. Everything falls apart. It isn’t just the talking and breathing, which is challenge enough; it’s the effort of listening and thinking and talking and breathing.
So off we went, and apart from a stop at 2k to take off his helmet so he could put his hood up and cover his cold ears (I had TOLD him to wear a hat!), we had a pleasant plod/spin along the roads. There was a fresh breeze, a sprinkle of rain, a faint rainbow and barely a car on the roads. Lovely.
I had to put in a couple of little turns outside the house to get to the 6k. It was quite fun - there is a big stone arch over the courtyard into where I live and it is on a slight downhill, so it feels a little like you are approaching a grand finish line. I do hope no one was watching - I threw my arms out in a triumphant gesture as I went under the arch!
Even better, the calf muscle feels fine. Every cloud has a silver lining and this minor niggling injury has really helped me control my pace and slow down. Magic10 is back on, peeps!