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!
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ktsok
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A happier post ktsok , I love the image of you running through the arch, à la Rocky, and aimless running to get to that final km, yep, done that quite a few times.
Kent? Kent? Why did I mentally have you in Somerset? I always added the Bristol twang when reading your posts in my head. Now I’m screwed because I don’t know what a typical Kent accent sounds like. On that note, I always had Jell down as a real gruff cockney. A Mike Reid. In case you’re wondering, I’m Like that bloke from “Some Mother’s Do ‘ave ‘em” but slight more effeminate.
Glad to hear calfie has sorted itself. I need to take inspiration from your speed reduction. I need to start listening to you more in general actually, you know things.
Saunas.
Seems Your comment was closer to the mark than I gave it credit for, so while we’re on the subject of me listening to you and if I’m off to go group saunering, I need fake tan tips. My belly will glow like a halogen bulb. I’m unpleasant enough with my clothes on.
I’ll also need a grotesquely large medallion To go with the look, but I’ll lean on Jell for that. (Christ I’m asking for a slap today)
Good running, and yes, go around like an aircraft in a stack waiting to land to round up. I see some people share screenshots of their Strava on here and it’s infuriating when they’re undershooting a crisp round figure. I’m close to clicking the little “Report” button.
Love the mental imagery of your line-crossing celebration. You’ve got to shout your own name when you do it though otherwise it won’t work.
And...I’m not sure I’ve commented enough, but I’ll leave it there at the risk of this not being long enough.
You don’t have to be faster than the bear; you have to be faster than the slowest man running from it.
For that sun-kissed rather than tango-ed look, you need smooth, exfoliated skin, plenty of lubrication and buffing. If that sentence made you raise your eyebrows, go to a professional. Be prepared for waxing.
Whatever your method, make sure you change your colour before you arrive in your next destination, not in the middle of your stay.
Learn to love your body more: every morning and evening, stand naked in front of a full length mirror and look at yourself. Say out loud “I look good. I love you, Paul”. The important thing is to mean it. Feel the love. You may wish to dance a little.
It is ok for your stomach and penis to hang out in a Finnish sauna. Just keep your bottom and bollocks on your own towel.
Where would you like this large medallion? because I have an idea😊
For you next voice over, I am from the North West, but at work they tell me that I am "a posh bird, who surprisingly swears a lot" which I am doing now, you cheeky.. £¥@$er
😂 You were probably just sat, minding your own business...I couldn’t help myself.
I actually knew you were from north west. You mentioned something about Liverpool in one of your recent posts. I also knew you were a posh bird. It radiates. I’ve never done you in an accent though. ktsok tends to have little local-dialecty phrases that I guess I wrongly attributed westwards. There’s one guy I can’t help but doing in a really thick, unintelligible brummy accent. Pour bloke pours his soul and I can’t take him seriously.
Anyway, sorry, I’m completely derailing the post. It’s tantamount to vandalism.
🎉👏🏼🎉Return of the ktsok mojo! Hurray. ⭐️🎉 And I love the Batman pic. I added in a loop round the local houses this morning to round up the number. 😄 But no triumphal arch. You’ve set a new standard there! Happy running. 🏃🏼♀️👍
Great update. Love the picture!! I also need one that asks why I’m walking back and forward/round in circles near my house. It’s because I want to start running HERE but I’m waiting for gps to kick in on my watch! Anyone else . . . . . . . . . ?
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Wet and wild 20 minutes 🤣🤣💧💧💧💨💨
B210K Week 1 Done! Not a bat out of hell this time :)
