No F Fling way!
11:11 23 miles 3:28:16
The run went like this…
1 7:50 (too fast… no surprise!) 2 8:31 (better!) 3 8:23 4 9:13 (included a short stop at Spielberg Towers. As Musical Adviser to JK Productions, I had to drop off a CD) 5 8:08 (State. That’s a 1988 musical joke) 6 8:01 (matching the beat of the bass drum of Graham Coxon’s Freakin’ Out with your right foot is not going to slow anyone down!) 7 11:01 (Tescos, Barrhead - chocolate milk and sports drink) 8 7:52 (chocolate milk power) 9 8:00 10 8:07 11 8:29 12 8:09 13 8:55 (walked up a hill!) 14 8:27 15 14:34 (Bellahouston Sports Centre – emergency stop!) 16 8:16 17 12:28 (Tescos Express, Glasgow Road – chocolate milk, chocolate donut and water) 18 11:41 (met a fellow club member, stopped to chat and provide said runner with refreshments) 19 7:58 20 7:55 (getting a bit fast here…) 21 8:57 (see Ferguslie Park story below) 22 8:41 (had a short walk at the start of the mile due to a sore foot that I didn’t want to make worse) 23 8:39 (as per mile 22!) Average 9:03 min/miles …and that’s about it, except that…
Today I decided to ‘yo! drop it Karno stylee!’ Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean I wore my cap backwards and talked in rhyme, it means I copied ultra marathon runner Dean Karnazes. I should never have read his book, it’s going to end in tears… and they’ll be mine! So, I set off with no route or distance planned, one bottle of sports drink in hand, two gels, and most importantly, my switch card. I can tell you now that you cause much intrigue and hilarity when you buy donuts and chocolate milk whilst wearing running gear!
I really enjoyed the run. No pressure over pace, and if I wanted a break, I had one. I also like not having a route planned. It gives a real sense of freedom. My only disappointment was that Pizza Hut was closed, thus, I couldn’t go all out Karno stylee!
I was stupid enough to be taking a walk break as I entered Ferguslie Park (once earmarked as Scotland’s most deprived area in official figures!), and was forced to remove my earphones to speak with (I don’t know if speak with is right, perhaps ‘decipher comments by’ would be more appropriate!) some locals. The two ladies (adorable women, shell suits, nasty gold jewelry, skin moisturised by smack) just wanted to say ‘nice legs!’ I was quite surprised by the lack of abuse, especially when the good looking one of the two guys (shell suit, gold sovereign rings, a symbol of one of the old and infirm teams tattooed on his body, and facial scars sponsored by Swiss Army knives!) asked how far I’d gone. My answer of “20 miles so far” received the official Fergie Park seal of approval, “Bloody hell, you mad B*****d!”
Having survived this meeting, I decided to exit Ferguslie Park as quickly as possible and take the longer, but safer, back road home!
Now home, I’m tired. My legs struggled in the latter stages of the run, although the pace didn’t really, and the London Marathon is clearly still in my muscles. Thus, I am glad that this weekend I will be drinking lager at a wedding, rather than running the 52 mile Highland Fling! I don’t think I would have performed too well! However, good luck to all those who are running it (John K, Davie, Brian, Ian, Tim et. al.) and to John M who is running the Lochaber Marathon on Sunday. Special Luck goes to the person JK tells me is running both races. Rather you than me!
