Yesterday I had a visit from the gremlins. They told me that all the healthy eating and hydration is a waste of time, I'm just a middle aged fat bloke, more Johnny Vegas than Johnny Depp, and I can't do it. So full of doubt was I that I lay in bed this morning trying to get motivated, eventually the curse of the middle aged man (bladder the size of a walnut) struck and on the way tothe bathroom I peeked out of the window to see bright sunshine... well, may as well go out anyway and see what happens.
So, off I set, keeping the pace deliberately slow so as to conserve energy, after all even if I can't do 10k I will get as far as I can. Playing the usual Sunday morning game of "dodge the doggies"... then approaching one group I inhaled a poor unsuspecting insect, had a coughing fit, and suddenly the masses ahead of me parted at the sight of the black clad red faced figure infected with who knows what lumbering towards them! Would it be evil of me to admit to using his tactic to clear my path about 4 further times...? π
Round about 3k in I suddenly realised I could barely hear Ms Strava, or my music for that matter, so managed to reach the volume control on my phone and turn it up, then it all happened... my playlist decided that what I wanted to encourage me was a spot of Motorhead... suddenly with another expatriate Stokie, the late great Lemmy, growling in my ear to motivate me, things fell into place, the rhythm finally arrived after a Toxic 18 and a bit, and I settled down into a pace of round about 6.35/km. Lemmy, wherever you are, thank you for scaring the gremlins away!
Even my friendly swans were there to spur me on as I passed the 7.5k mark, I'll be back later with some sunflower seeds for you all, round the bottom of Mammoth Lake, honked at by the geese as I passed 9k, their support I like to think of as payback for all the food I've given them... last 300m along the road... and... yes! The fat kid has done it! Shattered now mind you... but hey, I got there.