It's been a lean week as far as running is concerned. Leaden skies and bitterly cold gale force winds
brought the first snows of winter sweeping across the valley. From the warmth of my study I watched the wuthering whiteness hurtling towards me, obliterating everything in its path, and decided it was time to turn up the central heating, make myself a bowl of warm soup, then go into semi-hibernation until this perishing cold front passes over and drowns itself in the North Sea. It could be a long snooze....
|From my window - the first snows arriving....|
|This is a path....|
On Saturday we drove to the Dales in
glorious sunshine with the thermometer registering 5ºC. Good running weather, we thought. Unfortunately, by the time we'd lit the stove to warm the cottage, had a coffee and got changed, it had clouded over just as the forecast said it would, and by the time we'd jogged down to the riverbank it was spitting with rain. Undaunted we launched into our planned interval session which actually exceeded expectations. Quite by accident, of course. My 4 sets of (6 x 100m) somehow worked out at 31 x 100m - but I wasn't complaining. It doubled my mileage for the week and with a bit of quality there too.
|Water, water, everywhere I run....|
|My mind is fine, it's my body that says 'sod off'....|