And, I got round in a fairly respectable (i.e. not my slowest on this course) 27:32. With negative splits!
This, however, was apparently as much effort as my sub-25 min achievements across the summer of 2016, and I was totally unable to continue with my initial plan of running 8 miles total on Saturday (1 mile to parkrun, 3 miles at parkrun, then 3 miles along the canal and 1 mile home again). I did try – but my legs were not up for it. So I went out on Sunday instead (which meant eschewing my lie-in, but did mean I got 6 miles in the bag before getting on a train at 10:38 and going to Northolt to help sew up a wedding present blanket).
However, the effort involved in this run tells me that I need to pull myself together a bit if I’m going to enjoy the Midsummer Munro half. I need a couple of speedwork sessions. I need to push myself rather than bimbling. I need to get some of my fitness back, as it’s evidently lacking. Between running less, sprains, colds, work trips – well. I have finally hit 100 miles run this year. Last year I’d managed that by the end of January. Losing most of February was something I did not need. Hey ho. It happens.
N, on the other hand, has been storming along (after a brief panic with a niggly knee – turns out his muscles had locked up round it rather than anything truly ghastly like a torn meniscus or ACL). He is absolutely set for Boston on Monday. It won’t be a PB course (too much hill). But he will not disgrace himself in his eyes, and I hope he will enjoy it. Last night, he came to GOSH Scouts and Guides with me, and we talked about running marathons. We’ve hopefully inspired the three kids who were there – I did talk a lot about that brilliant feeling you get at the end of a marathon (because, let’s face it, if it goes reasonably well, you do end up with an impressive high). They tried on his medals. And they made him a poster that I can flap as he goes past. I have *no* idea where I’m going to stand…and I’m not looking forward to the wait for him to go past. I’ve only gone to support him at a couple of races where I’ve not been running myself, and it’s a truly ghastly experience. I worry so hard, and so much, that I just spend the entire time feeling faintly sick. Boston seems to have the added worry that it’s such an iconic race, it was bombed a few of years ago, and thus has strict security (runners cannot wear camelbaks, for example) for runners and spectators. I need to acquire a small bag for the essentials (phone, wallet, ID). After Boston, we’re having a bijou holiday. I’m very much looking forward to this – actually being off work for more than a week. Last time that happened I was too busy recovering from the endometriosis surgery to enjoy myself.
On that note, we had one of those immensely frustrating trips to the hospital. The type where you wait for 45 minutes with no explanation (and the display screen is insistent that no-one is running late). You’re seen by yet another new doctor, who does not apologise for the wait, who blatently has not read the notes, who cannot get your age correct in the notes she’s writing, who tells you that the blood test done in January suggests that you are ovulating (woo hoo. The OTC test told me that), and to keep going for another 2 cycles with the Clomid. Having had to be told that you’re in cycle 4 already. Why this could not have been done by telephone, I know not? Would have saved everyone a lot of time. Come back in 8 weeks, presumably to get a referral letter for private IVF. Because, remember, you’re too old for NHS IVF in this area. Go home. Eat the last of the birthday cake. Sulk because you weigh 9 stone now…
Otherwise: I have been massively involved in organising a STEM Day for the County Rainbows, Brownies, Guides and Senior Section in May. We have over 175 girls signed up for this, it’s going to be utterly wonderful and completely terrifying. I’ve just ordered the badges. It’s the same weekend as the Kensington Dollshouse Fair – which means I’m going to miss that, which is a shame, as I’ve finally managed to get the lights working in the dollshouse (20 years after I got it. Honestly. It’s old enough to have its own mortgage.) and I am keen to sort out the fireplaces, but I want to actually see what I’m buying. Having the biggest dollshouse fair close enough to visit on public transport is lovely: and this is quite frustrating.
There has been some knitting. A pair of socks going badly. A sweater going better (I have just ordered some new knitting needles for that – turns out that while I do have 2 size 5 UK needles, they are not really a pair, they are horrible plastic, and I feel the situation could be improved). I’ve remembered how to tat, and I’m going to use the tatted edging I’ve been working on as part of the dedication panel for this blanket. No photos of that until after it’s been handed over in late May: I don’t think that the recipients read this blog, but, then again, weirder things have happened, and let’s not tempt fate, eh?