Not ten grand (I wish). I am talking about 6.25 miles. I tackled the distance for the first time in over a year yesterday. Quietly, on my own, without a timing device tied to my shoelace. I was making a comeback you see and I didn’t want any hoo-haa. Let’s just say I’ll come on for the run. The achievement was that the distance was covered in a fashion, without walking.
If I pull out sound tomorrow, I’ll be in business for an official timed run next weekend in London, but at this point I’ll just be grateful when my joints stop aching. Running on tarmac is not my favourite thing.
The benefit of running along the sea-front is that I know my distances and there is plenty to distract a beetroot-faced plodalong like me. Normally I have the dog, but he is turning into a stop-starting device off-lead and on the lead he and I just look like an odd couple.
A much better matched pair are these superheroes who I passed on my sprint finish to the parking meter so I could check my time.
After all, The Only Way is Essex.