Hooray! The silly season is upon us! Christmas get togethers, work functions and late night shopping is in full swing and I’m finding it tough to keep up my training and have a social life. And I refuse to forgo the christmas sales, mince pies and late night catch up with the girls! I’d like to have my cake and train while eating it. So to speak.
There are only so many hours in the day, and although I have tried many many times to get up before 6am, I have failed miserably. I am not a morning person (yet!) and the snooze button is just too tempting. Lunch time running is invariably impractical and involves me looking sweaty and ridiculous in close proximity to my work colleagues (this should only happen when we’re looking at budgets). That just leaves the evenings, and these are booked up between now and January 18th. Yes really.
R has managed to injure himself a tad, after not heading my recommendations to rest after a long run. Quote: “I need to figure these things out for myself, just because YOU need to rest does’t mean I need to” Of course, turns out I’m right. Have your humble pie served HOT boyo!
|HOT pink. Sort of.|
As a result I’m training on my own this week, and I have decided the only thing for it is to forsake my oyster card and use my legs to carry me home, 3 times a week. Problem solved!
I was rather excited by this prospect this morning while packing my bag with trainers and other running paraphernalia. No trudging up the high street, no rushing for the next train at rush hour, no falling asleep and missing my stop (or getting stuck in the doors when I remember too late!) This would be good. Me and the road. It’s only 9km after all. In a straight line. Easy.
Then the fear stepped in, which usually happens when I try a new route, what if I get lost? What if I pull a muscle and I get stuck in deepest darkest Acton? What if I just wimped out? I packed £20 cab fare, just in case.
But after the initial shock of leaving the office dressed in bright pink high vis subsided with a few raised eyebrows behind me, I got into the swing of things.
Uxbridge Road is not pretty. 9kms of it, filled with dodgy chicken shops, and very sad looking shopping centres with bargain shops. But the pavements were wide enough so I didn’t need to dodge cars and people. Best of all, Uxbridge Road happens to have a slight decline when running from west to east. So that helped cheer me up.
Got home in just over an hour, without that feeling of being harassed by TFL, and possibly exposed to everyone on the tube’s winter cold. Plus I got the listen to this album most of the way through; Result!