After last Sunday’s half marathon, the descriptor for today’s long run – “120 mins comfortable pace” – seems, on paper at least, like a bit of a walk in the park. But when you take it off the paper and put it in the discreet back pocket of your running ‘tights’, alongside the ‘special’ black and red jelly babies (oh, I haven’t told you about the jelly babies yet, have I?), and then go outside to face the elements, it becomes less of a walk in the park and more of a two-hour slog in the pissin’ Scottish rain.
Actually, that’s not quite true. It did rain while I was running for the first time since the ‘Toy Story 2 episode’ but only for about half an hour at the start and only when I was running with the force 10 ‘breeze’ at my back. Thankfully, all during that first half hour, my little green iPod shuffle served up, in what I can only assume was a tribute to Friday night’s gig extravaganza by The Signals, a right plethora of Scottish-based rock and pop gems including, but not limited to, the Kevin McDermott Orchestra, Del Amitri, Danny Wilson, Hipsway and the Allan Hendry Band. Awesome.
I spent most of today’s run on the path alongside the Union Canal, which passes through my town on its way from somewhere in the west, all the way to a noisy, overpriced bar/'bistro' in Edinburgh. I'd calculated that canals rarely run uphill or down so changes in elevation, and the resultant agonising pain in my calves and shins, would be kept to an absolute minimum. What I didn’t count on though was the rough terrain of the path where jaggy stones would stab me through the soles of my shoes and slight muddy patches would become barely leapable Red Sea-like puddles after a rain shower. Not to mention the mad cyclists and the fighting dogs who both almost sent me headlong into the murky waters of the canal at different points. And me without my crèche-boy water wings too. Never again.
However, at least I didn’t suffer last week’s little niggling injury again. The day after the half marathon run, I was in the shower and noticed that my left nipple was… um… ‘crusty’ is probably too strong an adjective but chafing-wise, it was certainly ‘medium to well done’. So this morning to counteract this, I lifted the Vaseline jar off the bedside table and headed into the bathroom to begin the Sunday ritual.
Generous amounts were, as always, applied to the inner thighs and massaged well into the muscles for effortless, frictionless movement. A second dosage, more subtle in quantity, was then added to the tops of the inner thighs, moving up slowly, gently, respectfully to allow the lower buttocks to receive their fair share of the ‘oiling’.
It’s at this point on most Sundays that the rubbing stops and the running begins but this morning I returned to the Vaseline jar for a third scoop. As I manipulated the substance delicately around my chest ensuring maximum nipple-lubing, a funky guitar soundtrack kicked up in the background, wah-wah peddle to the fore and all the way up to 11, and my door bell rang unexpectedly. To my surprise, a beautiful girl stood on the front step wearing denim shorts and steel-capped boots, plaid shirt tied up at the front and hands resting gently on each side where her well-laden toolbelt crossed her magnificent hips.
“Hey baby, I hear you got some plumbin’ needin’ seein’ to,” she whispered in a barely audible whisper.
I don’t remember what I said in reply because the next thing I knew it was four hours later and I could barely walk. Still, I’m sure that means I had a great workout.
Favourite iPod moment of the day was The Silencers singing ‘Scottish Rain’. If The Signals had videoed Friday night’s gig, it would’ve looked a lot like this.
Oh and before I forget, a big thank you to Suzanne, Allison and Soapy for their kind and generous donations to my fundraising efforts during the last seven days.
Actually, that’s not quite true. It did rain while I was running for the first time since the ‘Toy Story 2 episode’ but only for about half an hour at the start and only when I was running with the force 10 ‘breeze’ at my back. Thankfully, all during that first half hour, my little green iPod shuffle served up, in what I can only assume was a tribute to Friday night’s gig extravaganza by The Signals, a right plethora of Scottish-based rock and pop gems including, but not limited to, the Kevin McDermott Orchestra, Del Amitri, Danny Wilson, Hipsway and the Allan Hendry Band. Awesome.
I spent most of today’s run on the path alongside the Union Canal, which passes through my town on its way from somewhere in the west, all the way to a noisy, overpriced bar/'bistro' in Edinburgh. I'd calculated that canals rarely run uphill or down so changes in elevation, and the resultant agonising pain in my calves and shins, would be kept to an absolute minimum. What I didn’t count on though was the rough terrain of the path where jaggy stones would stab me through the soles of my shoes and slight muddy patches would become barely leapable Red Sea-like puddles after a rain shower. Not to mention the mad cyclists and the fighting dogs who both almost sent me headlong into the murky waters of the canal at different points. And me without my crèche-boy water wings too. Never again.
However, at least I didn’t suffer last week’s little niggling injury again. The day after the half marathon run, I was in the shower and noticed that my left nipple was… um… ‘crusty’ is probably too strong an adjective but chafing-wise, it was certainly ‘medium to well done’. So this morning to counteract this, I lifted the Vaseline jar off the bedside table and headed into the bathroom to begin the Sunday ritual.
Generous amounts were, as always, applied to the inner thighs and massaged well into the muscles for effortless, frictionless movement. A second dosage, more subtle in quantity, was then added to the tops of the inner thighs, moving up slowly, gently, respectfully to allow the lower buttocks to receive their fair share of the ‘oiling’.
It’s at this point on most Sundays that the rubbing stops and the running begins but this morning I returned to the Vaseline jar for a third scoop. As I manipulated the substance delicately around my chest ensuring maximum nipple-lubing, a funky guitar soundtrack kicked up in the background, wah-wah peddle to the fore and all the way up to 11, and my door bell rang unexpectedly. To my surprise, a beautiful girl stood on the front step wearing denim shorts and steel-capped boots, plaid shirt tied up at the front and hands resting gently on each side where her well-laden toolbelt crossed her magnificent hips.
“Hey baby, I hear you got some plumbin’ needin’ seein’ to,” she whispered in a barely audible whisper.
I don’t remember what I said in reply because the next thing I knew it was four hours later and I could barely walk. Still, I’m sure that means I had a great workout.
Favourite iPod moment of the day was The Silencers singing ‘Scottish Rain’. If The Signals had videoed Friday night’s gig, it would’ve looked a lot like this.
Oh and before I forget, a big thank you to Suzanne, Allison and Soapy for their kind and generous donations to my fundraising efforts during the last seven days.
1 comment:
.. well did you get your plumbing sorted , what tools were used. You were lucky to get her to come out on a Sunday - it's difficult to get a good plumber at the best of times.
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