“Jesus Christ, the Old Testament, church, God, Mary, Joseph, Jonathan Edwards, the Bible, Aled Jones, the Holy Ghost, catholicism, miracles, christianity, holy water, the sabbath day, the new testament, Adam and Eve, Songs of Praise. Can you hear me Songs of Praise? Your boys took one hell of a beating.”
And so it came to pass, that on God’s day of rest, F-Dog (that’s me) hit the pavements of Ashington and did anything but rest. Okay, so it wasn’t a mega pumped up affair and I nearly killed myself doing two miles, but I still managed it and in the relatively respectable 23 minutes, meaning a slow run still came in way under 12 minute miles. That’s progress for ya.
Annoyingly, I’m now aching all over, some six hours later. I can’t decide if it’s my body catching up with what I’ve put it through over the last fortnight, or that I just didn’t warm down properly. Either way, I’m going to take tomorrow off (unless I magically heal overnight) and hit the swimming pool and let that take the strain. I’ll still fit my five runs in next week, all with an extra mile on, but at the moment a three mile run out tomorrow feels like it’d be hell.
Still, that’s a full fortnight of running, I’m relatively injury free and definitely improving. And I’ve had virtually no abuse shouted at me by slim people. Maybe they think I’m one of them now! Yay! Hopefully the scales will back this up tonight when I weigh-in, for now I’m happy just to have got myself to this stage and praying these creaky old bones don’t pack in just yet!