Dreich is a Scottish word to describe cold, grey, drizzly weather, where you are engulfed in the clinging wetness of ground-level cloud and dampness dominates all around you. Such was the weather as I stepped out this morning, with pavements shining from the watery sheen reflecting the orange glow of the feeble street lights. Sounds miserable? Well, yes, under normal circumstances, but actually it is ideal weather for a run! Not raining as such, so you don’t get soaked to the core, yet enveloped in damp mist that keeps your skin cool and your temperature at a nice gentle warmth as you run.
After yesterday’s rest and recuperation day, I’m feeling up for running a little further today, so plan to go an extra mile. My pace is cautious which means that I can breathe easily – no desperate panting and sucking in of precious air, but a relatively relaxed rhythm, ideally suited to distance running. It’s dark still, so it feels a little precarious running through the park, with the occasional black silhouette appearing in the distance and gradually resolving into a recognisable dog shape as I draw closer. I always feel a bit more vulnerable in the dark, as I imagine the dogs might be a little more startled as you suddenly come upon them and may react with surprise and aggression. However, it seems that the only dog to show any such instinctive reactions is a tiny lhasa-apso that stupidly tries to manoeuvre itself under my feet, squeaking furiously and no doubt imagining itself to be of Pyrenean proportions as it attempts to strike fear into my heart!
The tide is coming in fast, and you can almost see it rushing in as a stiff breeze whips across the surface. Off in the distance I can see two small lights and as I approach I see that they are in the prows of two boats from the local rowing club. I feel like waving to these fellow athletes, so I do. They don’t wave back. I have to stop briefly as I cross the road to the latter half of the park – most annoying! Thankfully, I don’t have too many roads to cross on this route, so minimal frustration is endured. Because I am running further this morning I turn left at the bridge and continue out behind some houses to run alongside the main road to the local airport. The road is very busy and it occurs to me that it really ought to be getting light by now, since the build up of traffic usually only gets to this stage after sunrise. Not on a grey day like today, it seems!
Round a corner, up a hill and past the railway station and I'm back in the park. My legs are starting to tire now, and even though my breathing is not laboured I feel the urge to stop and walk for a while. I don’t however, I keep going, because I know that it is when I feel like this that I mustn't stop – in a marathon or half-marathon it can mean the start of the slippery slope to ever longer stints of walking interspersed with ever shorter stints of actual running. Mind over matter. At any rate, I want to get back home and have a nice mug of tea – I feel I have earned it!
It’s interesting that my current levels of training have produced a significant fall in my insulin requirements. For the past couple of nights I have been injecting only two units of lantus – when I was diagnosed I was on twenty units! Where will it all end? Might I only need one unit soon, or even no lantus at all? Two units seems such a tiny amount and is the lowest basal insulin requirement I have had since diagnosis.
The fundraising is still going very well, I am now up to £360, plus gift aid, with lots of pledges of donations come pay day! I’d love to make £1,000 – who knows?
Time 45 mins 54 secs
Distance 4.55 miles
Pace 10:05 per mile
BG before 7.6 mmol/l
BG after 8.9 mmol/l