“70 mins easy on flattish trail”
I wasn’t going to bother. I was going to ignore “on trail” and just go for a run on one of my standard quiet-residential-street routes. But this morning, I found myself throwing some kit* into the boot of my car to give myself the option of a trail run on the way home.
The only flaw in my plan was that my standard on-the-way-home-trail has a measly mile and a half of flat before going down an unrunnably steep monstrosity of a hill. Out and back and out and back and laps of the car park or the unrunnably steep monstrosity of a hill. Neither held any particular appeal, and my resolve faltered.
I shored it up by reminding it of Paris and pointing out to it that “no run couldn’t be bothered” is an excuse best kept for dire emergencies, and then I hauled myself out of the car, stood around for five minutes waiting for my watch to find a satellite, thanked it sarcastically for deigning to do so and set off.
And I was rewarded with an absolutely glorious “this is why I run” mini adventure.
Stage 1: 0 to 1.5 miles.
Out and back and out and back and out and back isn’t too bad. The trail is fine, the views are amazing and those two gates won’t become irritating when you go through them for the sixth time.
Tipping point: 1.5 miles.
I can’t face it. I’ll see if I can eke out the trail a little by investigating a few of the footpaths leading off it. Oh look – there’s one right there!
Stage 2: 1.5 to 3 miles.
I am a running goddess! I could run forever. Oh. I’ve run out of path. I’ll head back.
Stage 3: 3 to 4.5 miles.
Ah. I’m not a running goddess. It was downhill. Oh well.
Decision point: 4.5 miles.
I’ve added all bar enough for the last 10 minutes. Ooooh. Another path. I wonder where that goes?
Stage 4: 4.5 to 5.3 miles.
Running goddess be back!
Stage 5: 5.3 to 6 miles.
Darn it! It was another ever-so-slight hill.
Stage 6: 6 miles to the end.
Isn’t running grand?
* Shiny new road shoes**
** They aren’t so shiny any more.