13.1 miles = The Peroni is miiine!

crop peroni and protein bar

Run date: Friday 2 September 2016

Set-off time: 12.24pm

Pace: 10.24 mins/mile

Distance: 13.11 miles

Total run time: 2 hours, 16 mins, 28 secs

Terrain/landscape: One of my many, er, ‘second homes’, the Taunton to Bridgwater canal path…

Weather conditions: Like running in a giant sweat box (although no burning sun to burn it off, which I was mightily glad for); then humidity turned to sprinkler. Pretty darn nice.

The route: I Got It Like That:

02.09.2016

Music of choice: Mary Anne Hobbs on my usual haunt, BBC to the 6 to the Music. Notable highlights included… hmmm. A fresh Jamie T breaking his mould, and I can’t honestly remember what came in between in my runner’s reverie (yes I went there). But all that matters was that it ended with this. Sublime mind explosion.

Fuel? Well. Today’s been weird-as, as far as fuel goes. Harry’s been enjoying partaking in my almond milk, chia seed, banana and blueberry milkshake phase most mornings this week. It’s sweet and fills lightly, and I’m really enjoying the symbiosis with my readings about the Tarahumara runners (who really make chia a super food). Hoping some of the shine will rub off on me.

But then, there was the small matter of my waking up completely shattered after a restless night, to contend with. My dreams have been more vivid and bizarre than usual, lately. One of which involved my getting rapped on the knuckles for causing political chaos by issuing a press release about Jerry Corbyn having a spare room he wanted to let out. In this same dream my office was a tiny scrappy cardboard affair reached by a twirling rickety staircase that was also made of cardboard. Who knows what’s going on in there.

ANYWAY, what this meant was that I accidentally asked for a 100% mortgage at the bank today (which apparently they’re reluctant to give out) because of my dazed sleep-deprived confusion. I then drank all the coffee, wandered a bit quakingly with furrowed brow into Superdrug to buy hayfever relief, and what shall forever be known as a manbar, because I’d got to the point where I had decided the only thing that was going to get me through was one of those mutant laboratory PROTEIN BAR creations I’ve always steered clear of. I was not feeling good. Yet I had set my mind on doing a long run, dagnammit. So I crammed the protein bar into my mouth, nabbed a bottle of vitamin water, and found myself a new, leopard print (ooh la la) Nike sportsbra in the sale! at Tony Pryce, and didn’t buy some amazing running shorts with stag beetles on.

Awful as it was (the manbar, not the run), between the manbar and stubbornness, I made it through my second ever half-marathon.

To sum up: The Peroni is mine!! Mine!!!!

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