Yes, I know there is a mistake in the title. I'm trying to make the whole thing less serious. Two weeks left until this bloody run and I am bored. Bored of running, bored of healthy (ish) living, bored of the thought of a sober weekend in two weeks time.
That is however, getting less sober by the minute. Next weekend is mahoosive with Book Club including the return of a brand new member all the way from Melbourne, followed by a mad dash to Redditch and a 40th birthday. I will have to drink on Sunday to sort my miserable self out but then that was going to be it until the race. I'm already rethinking this. I'm currently on an alcohol free lifestyle, Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays so I thought that maybe a whole week off just to run 10K could be excessive. Proper marathon runners have a week or so off the sauce don't they and I'm only doing a quarter of that so technically I only need two days off. Well, as there aren't actually eight days in a week meaning I can't divide a week into quarters, so let's call it one and a bit days. Which really means I could drink on the Friday night and then run on the Sunday morning - nearly 36 hours see? Sorted.
The lack of boozing has been boring me the most. I've always had No-Alcohol Mondays, religiously; but over the last year or so I've added Wednesday into the mix as that is what that funny 'Change for Life' advertising advises. That's just about do-able due to a sadistically timed 8am meeting at school on a Thursday. Adding Tuesday to it as well though just makes the beginning of the week hardly worth getting out of bed for. I work on Tuesdays and I always find a day's work flows more freely with the promise of wine at the end of it. It does mean that I'm doing exactly what all the health advisors tell you not to do and that is binge-drinking from Thursday through Sunday. Last Thursday evening, Stuart said that I had had three glasses of wine by 7.30! The only blessing is that at least as my body isn't used to it I pass out at 9pm thus limiting further damage. Seb's at school now so that leaves the opportunity for a little snifter with my Pa on a Friday lunchtime. Yesterday, I found myself drinking gin and tonics in the armpit that is the Baton with my bezzie at 4.30pm, because, erm, well, just because really. Sunday lunch is a boozing religion in my family and I've discovered over the last few weeks that slow consumption of wine continued when we get home on a Sunday afternoon makes me much cheerier at about 6pm than a miserable early-evening hangover. Maybe healthy living isn't so bad after all?
So, my running. I've upped from two runs a week to three whilst I am officially 'in training'. Monday and Wednesday mornings and Thursdays after school. As you will have gathered from my description of my Sundays, Monday morning runs are pretty much a lame stagger back from school and round the block a bit whilst sweating 90% alcohol. Wednesdays are the days that I'm trying to build up mileage and it is a slow and painful process. I do feel a sense of achievement when I've added a nanomillimetre onto my distance from the week before but it is just so dull. I do actually enjoy running for about 7 minutes. Add another 35 minutes into the equation and I am pissed off and knackered. Thursday I co-run (b'doom) an after-school running activity with a colleague. (This is compulsory timetabled time for me, I'm not doing it out of the goodness of my heart, just in case you were thinking I'd changed.) This is probably the shortest distance I run but Lordy it is FAST. I'm not quite sure what speed I reckoned 10-12 year old boys ran at when I signed up for this but I struggle not to be last. Thank goodness for "Fred" let's call him who is hitting adolescent laziness and gets a stitch within seconds of starting off. Somebody needs to hang back and look after him, poor chap.
I've instructed Shelley, Sam and Stuart to keep a check on my enthusiasm in the future and remind me that 10K is where I should peak. If I looked back at this achievement through rose-coloured spectacles and started attempting to sign up for a half marathon at any point I should be bound and gagged and locked in the under-stairs cupboard until I have come to my senses. Sam rightly pointed out that there was no point making these sorts of plans as I will just get pissed and sign up for something at 2am in the morning and then it will be too late to do anything about it. She's got a point. Shit.
Anyway, must dash. There are only a good couple of drinking hours left in today and Sober Suicide Monday is looming heavy on my mind. Cheers!
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