I knew today's run was going to be hard. 15 miles is a crazy amount of miles to run and I approached it with more caution than my previous runs and I am sure this mental doubt certainly hindered my efforts, along with the snow, sleet and rain that had me soaked to the bone by mile 4!
For the past 7 weeks, my weekly long run has increased week on week, never allowing me to simply plateau for a week and repeat the distance with confidence. Whilst I know this is an important part of the marathon mental preparation as I will never actually run the full 26.2 miles before the big day, it is really hard going. Thankfully, next week I get to repeat my 15 miles before increasing to 17... gulp!
However today's run did have a few highlights including a row with a dog walker (and I admit I might have been in the wrong for which I must pass blame to my obviously low Glycogen stores)! Now before you read the following please also consider that I had spent a good few miles being "shot" at by the Saturday shoot. Seriously they were out in force today and at points I was leaping around so my fluro jacket was seen (in my mind through a gun sight) and I wasn't mistake for a plump Partridge. Many times I nearly pooped my pants as the shots felt like they were whizzing straight past my ear and that I was an extra in Saving Private Ryan!
So with no further excuses as I can tell you are itching for the goss here goes my-row-with-an-oldie in glorious technicolor detail. Imagine it, mile 11, cold, tired, wet and 4 miles still to go. At this point I had been running for nearly 2 hours and hadn't seen any sign off life for 6 miles, apart from being shot at which does very little to warm the cockles for humanity. So when I finally did I was so overcome with being back in civilisation that I think I experienced extreme acclimatisation (surely it is not farfetched?). So there I was going stir crazy, thighs aching when I saw a man a few hundred yards in front of me with two dogs, one of which was squatting. To my utter horror, when the squatting dog returned to the more traditional standing pose his owner failed to remove the offending item with a poopa scooper (lesson number one: not all dogs are male). So (and here is my second lesson) without removing my headphones I pointed to the spot and said "pick up the poo". Now I appreciate that seeing a crazy runner lady wearing a (slightly too small) boys Florescent jacket, orange shorts over running leggings, ski head band and 80s legwarmers shouting might be a little starting. Add to the equation that I was probably suffering from headphone deafness which amplified my "pick up the poo" comment to screaming banshee levels. At this he gave me a quizzical look (which I took as defiance) so I repeated myself and this time he responded. Now because I still hadn't removed my headphones I couldn't make out the response but was now close enough to lip read the word "bitch". At this I yanked my headphones out of my ear and said "there is no need to be offensive, I was simply asking you to pick up your dog poo" to which I got the reply "I simply said my dog is a bitch and had just urinated"... OMG please ground swallow me.... nope that didn't work so instead I picked up my pace and ran on.
Cringy huh! But it got worse when I realised that the song playing (and which was still belting out in clear audible tones to the poor man) was, you guessed it, WHO LET THE DOGS OUT. Seriously you couldn't make this stuff up!
I will be buying next months Cotswold Style to see if "angry resident of Faringdon" has complained about crazy runner lady listening to tunes supporting the irresponsible release of dogs!
So dear readers... am I forgiven?
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