Oh yes. Cakeathon tomorrow! There are two in May, and I bet everyone else is doing the late May event when I’m purportedly down to do the Vitality London 10K (we are a bit sad that BUPA no longer sponsors it, as it means yet another pink themed medal to go with Bath, Reading, Hackney, North London etc). Purportedly, as I have no idea how Tuesday’s surgery will go. Most friends’ experiences have been good, but one did have a nasty reaction to the anaesthetic and had to stay in. And I am worried about losing fitness while everything heals up. I’m going to ask for super fast healing stitches. If they exist. This is the first time I’ve needed surgery: the worst I’ve done is lacerate my thumb on a baked bean tin. That involved steroid trips and not washing it for a week. Thumbs get surprisingly stinky.
Anyhow. This weekend, like last, has been Morris heavy. It’s that time of year. St George’s day, then May Day.
Today involved less dancing than last week. Last week I got up the next morning and my calves were insistent that stairs were not their thing, and as for running? Nah. Forget it. I tried, I bailed early and left N to run on his own, I pootled home slowly, I had 3 days off. This week has been very thunderstormy: so when I got back it to it yesterday, I promptly had short sharp asthma attack. Rather than stop, I decided to run to heart rate (160-165, chosen at random) I can control my heart rate by controlling my speed, and that takes the edge off. N said he was struggling a bit, so it was hardly surprising my lungs objected. I get so annoyed and frustrated when my legs are going fine and my lungs aren’t (and this happens every year, round about early May, and it is falling when I know I’m perfectly fit!). Running to heart rate is now on the list of things to research. I ought to work out how to do it properly rather than guessing. I should actually run to the correct rate!
So, now I am sitting in Carluccio’s, having concluded that delaying getting on a train for a two hour journey in order to eat is a Good Idea. I’ve had my usual pre race menu: a chicken liver pate and then pasta luganica with a small glass of red wine.
I know. Wine the night before a race! Shock! Horror! Jane, you are not doing it properly! I have run various PBs on wine the night before. It makes no difference. Gin, however, has a detrimental effect and leaves me very heavy legged. I love the stuff, which is why I have several bottles (mostly gifts) at home. The effect on my running is also why I have several bottles at home..
Otherwise, I’ve been finishing up at work. I was still doing something reasonably technical 10 minutes before my leaving presentation. Five minutes before the presentation I was trying to hide…I did actually ask that everyone stop looking at me. I’m just a DBA. They’ve employed a new one who starts in a fortnight.
Me? I just started the temporary unemployment by arranging all my hand knitted socks on the bed (forgetting about two pairs). 27 pairs in total. I’ve made 7 pairs for N, about a dozen for other people (no. More. Probably 20 or so, now I count up quickly!). I’ve got two pairs made for me: both part of sockapalooza exchanges. And the practical upshot of this photo? Going to knit a pair for a former young leader…