That's how I feel redoing all these runs. If I didn't crock myself (nobody's fault) first go 'round, I could be sitting having a cup of tea and a pink wafer with Mo Farah by now.
Anyway, I've just rolled Week 1 up in an old carpet and dumped it amongst the bins in some urine soaked alleyway and walked away whistling. Now to go teach his mate Week 2 some manners as well. Any back-chat from him and I'll be punching him where it hurts (right in the wife).
I've had some tech issues this week. On R2 I was given the prompt to walk, so I did, and did. And did. Next thing I know I'm in the next county, so I check in on MJ and he's frozen. I think it's my headphone port that's a bit loose and it auto-pauses under minimum duress. It happened again in the cool down walk and then again tonight. The problem with it happening then is that it doesn't let you resume, only save and exit and then you have to guess when you're done. Wreaks havoc on my Strava, let me tell you. There's nothing worse than tech issues. It's just an added needless stress, like a wasp buzzing in your vicinity.
Actually, there is one thing that's much worse. One of my socks burst its elastic and spent the entire run trying to migrate southwards beneath my heel. That's unbelievably frustrating. I've never been angry at a sock before so didn't immediately know how to exact revenge. I've put it to one side until I can figure out a suitable punishment.
A lot of frustrations this week now I come to think about it.
I keep falling for the same trick with MJ when he's getting you gee'd up for your next run. He says something like, "OK, it's time for your next run [something, something, something]. Ready?" Then there's a dramatic pause and he says, "You can do this." So I start running. I can hear him trying not to laugh at me when a few seconds later he starts a countdown from 3 and says go. I think I've accumulated 30 seconds of extra running, so I'll be applying for them back, thank you very much.
Hang on, where was I? Oh yeah...
I love the Strava. In fact I love over-analysing data in general. It's currently my third love after routing my running down posh streets to bring down the house values (what with my sweat haze and frankensteinian demeanour) and tip-tapping utter drivel on this site.
I've also got a wife and 2 kids. They're like the honourable mentions.
I've been coveting Garmin watches over the last few days (thanks to ktsok) as well as incontinence pads (thanks to ktsok) but have been expressly forbidden from getting one (the watch) until either my birthday (late April) or when I graduate this shebang. Life's pretty cruel at times. The amount of data those things spit out after a run is incredible. Heart rate, stress, cadence. I'll have a million new ways to realise what an unfit mess I am. I'm drooling at the prospect.
I certainly can't wait until the end of April, so looks like I've got no choice but to get a divorce.
Mind you, I don't fancy my chances as a bachelor any more. Not unless someone out there has got a thing for a bloke with identical bodily proportions to that of a frog: all spindly limbed and pot-bellied, with a gormless, vacant expression usually reserved for your morning pee.
Looks like I'll have to continue muddling through with this then.
Anyway, happy running you bunch of zealots. W2 starts Friday for me and I've found a new street full of borderline mansions to terrorise. If I horrify the neighbourhood enough, it might knock one of them down into my price range. Now there's a thought.