It feels like ages since I've posted. Life just seems to get in the way... but not of running... just in the way of getting online.
In fact, last weekend was a busy one, interval run using the speed podcast last Friday morning. I thought the intervals would get easier, but I found myself mentally shouting at Laura, even though I knew I couldn't do them at all without her.
Then it was home for a quick shower and pack (including running kit -a clean set of course) before heading into London and then on a train to Leeds. Mr Razouski had a work conference, and partners were invited for the evening for a rather slap up dinner and dance.
Fortunately I didn't have to run on Saturday morning as I may have indulged in one or two drinks πΎat the free bar and danced daringly. The band were great and seemed to have got much of their set list from the Retro Runners, ( Hidden and antet you would have approved of the music, if not my dance ππ½ moves π) So when I eventually decided it was safe to move my head we headed of to Manchester to visit daughter number two, who is at uni there. Had a most sophisticated afternoon at the Whitworth Museum, rehydrated with water all evening, so by the time Sunday morning dawned I was raring to go.
Our hotel was in Didsbury and I set off along the Didsbury Park a Road in search of Fletcher Moss Park. There had been a lot of rain the previous day, but there weren't too many puddles on the path, and I headed along a long felt wooden walkway and out through fields. I had to stop to ask directions, but then was on my way towards the Mersey. I hadn't realised how grand it was at this point, but there was something really calm and serene about running next to such a wide swathe of water. The bank was rather damp it has to be said, but I managed to avoid the muddiest bits.
I was in the zone, beautiful scenery and even managed to get up quite close to a heron, who seemed totally bemused by my appearance.
The river ran under several beautifully constructed bridges, past woodlands, and through some lovely scenery. I couldn't help but stop to take photos, but felt I could run all day. However, thoughts of Mr R wanting his breakfast entered my head and after about 6km I decided I had better turn round and head back to the Hotel.
I passed several runners, one of whom was the spitting image of davelinks . The track back to the park was dotted with puddles and I felt quite proud of the way I was able to dodge round them or leap over. One puddle spanned the path but there was a pile of leaves in the centre marking a shallower bit. How was I to know someone had booby trapped it? Thoughts of Dawn French a.k.a. Vicar of Dibley filled my head as my right foot plunged into the water.
On reentering the park I had the bright idea of taking a different route back to the road! It's a beautiful park, and I would get to see a bit more of it. Great idea...
Unfortunately I soon found myself running across what looked like a grassy area, but actually turned out to be more like a marsh. My feet were sinking through the grass into the wetland, and I was pretty soon ankle deep in π¦ water. My feet were so wet it wasn't worth retracing my steps, so I just ploughed on.
By the time I got back to the hotel the water had wicked up my leggings to my knees, and the receptionist seemed to find the state of me highly amusing.
But I'd had a lovely run, and at least earned my slap up breakfast.