Sunday, 8 December 2013

The road to recovery

The Balvenie ran out!
We spent the Saturday in Southampton, checking out the Southampton Solent University for my daughter, she's been offered a place if she can score 240 UCAS points in her B-Tech this year. Currently she's aiming at 360 so it looks like we'll get shot of her next year then. We did the obligatory 3 hours shopping after 'walking the wall' despite there not being much of the medieval wall left between shops at West Quay and the car parks. It was a chilly day for a walk and I was  missing the drinks cabinet, so I was somewhat glad to get home and be reunited with the Balvenie.
Sunday it all became a bit real and panic set in briefly before the excitement returned. I did warn her that I knew one or two dodgy characters from Southampton AC so she could fit in training easy enough with the 4-5 hours of lectures a week.

Monday was Monday, it started with the dentist and it ended badly with the Balvenie running out, so there was a great howling and gnashing of teeth. I resolved to do a couple of  1000m runs on Tuesday despite the cold and being knackered from the 125mile round trip to work at UCAS in Cheltenham. So Tuesday came round and and I did "run" a couple of 1K  runs, such a shock to the system that  I had to fall back onto the Penderyn, butterscotch and fruit cake to the rescue.

Wednesday dawned with a surprising absence of stiffness, though I did struggle a bit with cramp in my foot riding home from work. So the next day's training session, planned to be a mere 3x300m, would probably require a little more than just Coca-Cola in terms of hydration, so I dreamt up a mixture of Blackcurrant squash and Indian Tonic Water. Tasted disgusting without the gin.

I need not have bothered, Thursday I decided to have a two day migraine so training was the last thing on my mind.

Sunday I resumed the newly re-arranged training  schedule in the form of  4x200m indoors, felt good to run on the boards once more, and turn in some decent reps too (34,34,33,34)  before collapsing in a heap dreaming of whisky and hot baths.

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