And we're back into the double digits, although not quite yet the double digits per run. Can I get a whoop for that?
You may have heard that the UK has been getting some freak snow. By Friday of last week it finally hit Brighton and what a sight it was, snow on the beach. Sunday morning we woke up to yet more snow falling but there was no way I was going to do ten miles on the dreadmill. Ten friggin' miles. No siree...
We had ourselves a nice, big late breakfast/early lunch and headed towards the sea (after having let it settle, obviously!). And what a sight...
|Our fans were lined up on the beach cheering us on|
|Seeking out his photo opps left, right and centre|
People had really come out in full force making the most of the snow.
|I don't think I've ever seen as many snowmen in one go|
And I was lucky to have my own personal photographer with me. He kept finding the perfect photo opps for yours truly so I'd have some hard evidence that we were really out there and not just hiding away in the warmth with a cuppa.
|Meet my new buddy, I think they called him Mr Snowman?!|
The first half of our run, along the promenade, via the pier and then up the road towards Rodean went quite nicely.
When we hit the 4-mile mark, G was happy to keep going just a bit longer, so we made it to 4.5 miles (I wanted to do 10, he wanted to do 8, so that's called a compromise!), just as we'd conveniently reached a turning point, and headed back the way we came, but this time along the bottom road.
Ooooh.... now this is where the run turned rather unpleasant. It still hasn't sunk in that going out, we tend to have the wind in our back. So going back, while it's cold and snowing and running straight into the wind suddenly turned into a rather unpleasant experience.
On top of that our fuelling strategy was pretty much non-existent. Where I'd usually bring a gel when attempting to do a 10-miler, all we'd had in the house were half a (small) box of Jelly Beans and a Nakd bar. The beans were tucked into first and let me tell you, not a great running treat. They get all gooey and are hard to chew while running. Refuel fail!
|Hitting the 6-mile point. You see, I'm doing the six sign, just FYI!|
I don't know whether it was the wind or the repeated stops to wait for Mr Photographer, but suddenly I could no longer feel my hands. I mean no feeling whatsoever. Dead. I did a lot of wiggling around but that didn't do much good. Finding, this, however, helped a little:
Anyhoo, the bottom line: we did it. We compromised, ran 9 miles and then spent the rest of the day cozied up on the couch doing that Sunday thing: chillaxing, stuffing our faces with food and feeling smug cause we'd been out there, so we deserved it!
On that note, as I'm writing this from the past for you to enjoy bright and early Monday morning, I'm shattered. Imma have myself a cheeky glass of vino and put my well-compressioned feet up for the night.
How did you get on with your long run over the weekend? Any crazy weather adventures?
How do you fuel on your long runs? Clearly, I'm in dire need of advice on that one!