The first run in almost a week. OUCH. That was bloody tough. I need routine for running; I need a return to the Saturday morning ParkRun. Early June is scheduled in for a restart of the race that’s not a race. It can’t come soon enough.
‘Lockdown’ traffic was BONKERS on Saturday. Tail to tail, all with somewhere no doubt very important to go. But probably not ParkRun.
I slipped away and immersed myself in another Two Stars Forest poddcast. YOU FOOL! On the agenda was the bloated squad down at Trentside this season, and how the club can get rid of them.
I particularly liked the observation that Gaëtan Bong should stay as he is “great at shit housing.” It’s come to this: we’re ranking Forest players now on their ability to wind down the clock and bore the arse off everyone else.
Bong is a bloody good shit houser though.
A brief burst of the Estuary Wilds sun gave me a nudge forwards down Clinghoe Hill. No shit housing here, nope. The annoying patch of public footpath that is constantly covered in crap has dried out. I do like a clean pair of OCD trainers.
I thought my hamstring has popped as I headed up past the University. All runners always think they are injured. It’s a useful coping mechanism when you clock the Strava time later.
An attack of the crows also slowed me down up Boundary Road. Scary muthas. Sadly the University daffs are now wilting.
Not a great run, but no such thing as a bad run, etc.
I’ll log this one as a shit housing comparison for when ParkRun returns early summer.