Tuesday, 6 September 2011

W is for weather (and really, really strong wind!)

Do you remember back in August when I spent almost a full blog bemoaning the glorious British summer time? I groaned about the sunshine, I grumbled about how hot and sweaty I became when running in the hazy sunshine and I wished several times for a return to our native, gale force wind/ driving rain climate. Dear readers, tonight all of my wishes came true (well, my running ones anyway… as yet Michael Buble hasn’t arrived with the keys to my yellow Porsche 911 turbo… but my fingers and toes are well and truly crossed!)      
                Tonight it rained. In sheets. Which were blown horizontally at me by gale force winds. The wind was so strong that my hair bobbles were literally blown out of my hair. I had to hold my cap for three miles just in case it blew into a tree (and then I would have nothing with which to hide my beetroot face and runners pimples.) For three miles, I ran into the wind.Now, I have given birth to two children- childbirth was agonising, it was relentless, it was undignified… it was nothing compared to running into the wind. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. On one particularly memorable section of the road, I was pelted with branches, conkers and a whole variety of other tree debris as I passed under a row of Horse Chestnuts. Into the wind, I averaged a 12 minute mile- on the up side, I burnt 1/3 more calories than usual. (Every cloud- even when it’s a dark, broody, rain filled on- has a silver lining!)
                At the start of mile 4, I turned a corner- literally. I turned a corner and the wind was behind me. It was awesome. I hardly lifted my feet, the wind just blew me onwards. During mile 5, I stopped sweating! I actually stopped sweating. I also stopped panting and I’m fairly sure that my face returned to ‘pale and disinteresting’ rather than ‘flaming and funny.’ I averaged an 8 and a ½ minute mile! Winner!
                So I have two options for the half marathon:
1)     Pray for the wind then pray even harder that it is behind me for the WHOLE run     OR
2)     Do the half marathon on a mobility scooter and hope that no-one notices
Both of these are unlikely I know. So is Michael Buble turning up with the keys to my sports car… but, as the old song goes, ‘Don’t stop believin’’’…
Keep the dream alive people! X

Below is the next exciting instalment of my poem ‘Going the Distance.’
Mile 2:
Oh bugger me, my side is killing, I’ve got a bloody stitch
Slow right down, lie right down? I’ve seen a welcome ditch
No, I must be stronger and not admit defeat
Although my stitch has spread now and it’s painful in my feet
I do the stupid windmill thing, my arms are in the air
Car drivers point and laugh but I simply don’t care
It must be time, my body’s tired, I’ll have a little goo
Followed up by Powerade, oh damn I need the loo
  (…verse 1 is in ‘S is for speedy’…)

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