A few of the more observant amongst my readers may have noticed that I have taken a few days away from the training and, consequently, the blog. Four days, in fact. Monday was always going to be a rest day after Sunday’s Long Slow Run, and as it turned out, Tuesday was also a rest day since my head was unable to rise from my pillow for an undisclosed number of hours beyond my normal pre-dawn rising time.
So what of Wednesday and Thursday, I hear you ask? Well, on Tuesday night it seems I fell victim to what we shall euphemistically refer to as a ‘head cold’, brought on by the ingestion of copius quantities of Real Ale and a couple of double vodkas…The ‘cold’ persisted throughout Wednesday, and though much recovered by Thursday I was overwhelmed by extreme laziness and did not venture out that day.
So, this made me very determined to go out this morning, come hell or high water! I almost didn’t make it, waking for a second time after first being shocked awake by my alarm, but managed this time to throw my legs out of the bed and head to the bathroom for my ablutions. My house is quite old and isn’t the best insulated, so I can usually tell with a high degree of accuracy what the weather outside will be like. It would be cold! And so I was proved right, although I opted for ordinary running leggings and t-shirt, and left the space pants in the wardrobe, estimating that there was insufficient chill factor to warrant their warmth.
I was all set to go out when a memory drifted back to me from many years ago: a time when I had first sported such leggings and presented myself for inspection before my then-girlfriend. Hospitals and ambulances were put on alert and the local neighbourhood was subjected to such loud hilarity that it was feared that a tanker of nitrous oxide must have met with some disaster and released its mirth-inducing cargo for miles around! Yes, she thought I looked ridiculous, with my bony little legs encased in skin-hugging lycra in barely believable imitation of Linford’s Lunchbox!
Clearly, that was many years ago, and since then my legs have become quite magnificent, admired country-wide for their strength and line. But, I must confess, the view from the mirror reflects the Max Wall/Billy Dainty physique of those many years past. You probably need to be of a certain vintage to appreciate the comparison, but the picture above should give you some idea.
So then it occurred to me, why am I stressing about running this half marathon dressed as The Diabetes Fairy? Is it likely that the vision of me in fairy frock and tights is likely to shock or amuse more than my ‘Dainty’ tights? So Alan, be brave! Venture out in that dress and feel no fear!
The run went well, feeling strong all the way and confident of going for 7 miles on Sunday!
Time 35 mins 12 secs
Distance 3.64 miles
Pace 9:40 per mile
BG before 6.2 mmol/l
BG after 10.0 mmol/l