Time Flies When You're not Having Fun...

It has occurred to me that I haven't written anything on here for nearly a week, and I guess that can be considered poor by some standards.  Things have happened, I just haven't found the time to report.  Which is something that upsets me, because one thing up there in my top lists of pet hates is people complaining of not "having the time".  I'd rank it somewhere in between those who pick up their dogs mess in bags, then tie it to a tree; and non-alcoholic beer.

I have a bee in my bonnet about this kind of shit

So what has happened?  I am beginning to find matters difficult balancing current demands occupationally with my personal life.  There really has been too much going on in the past few months that I don't want to discuss on here (maybe one day, but not now).  However, on Saturday the stress took its toll, and I did little for an entire day.  I did manage to take Olive swimming in the morning, and to take her to see the old donkeys that used to live by the Woodlands Trust Farm.  Luckily, I have a very strong family around me who can deal with these occasions, and pull me through it quickly enough. 

Sunday, I decided to sort myself out, get out of the way for a few hours clearing my head, and went for a near 35km run in 3:26:40.  This route took in 10km to the River Thames, then followed the Salt Marshes eastwards towards the River Darent, which I followed to the River Cray, and continued along to Foots Cray.  After this, it was a case of heading through Sidcup into Eltham, and following a standard route I use home.  All went well, until about the three hour mark.  My mind started playing games with me, whether I was heading in the right direction, whether I'd make it to Eltham, had I overshot the distance?  Then, out of the blue, it hit right between the eyes, nearly knocking me off my stride... 

...'The Wall'...

...a vicious little fucker as well, if you'll pardon my language.  Every step got heavier, my mind kept telling me to stop.  I kept looking at my phone to see how much further there was to go, 4km, make it to New Eltham Station; 3km, get into Avery Hill park, don't think about the small hill, get out the other side; 2km, that hill is so small, yet felt so massive, there's no way I'll be able to run home today, keep going; 1km, just get yourself to Oxleas Wood, stop checking the phone, once there, you must have done 34km, and can walk the rest of the way home.

I made it to Oxleas Wood, and spent a long time warming down, before heading home, getting washed, dressed and ready to take Olive to her friends for afternoon lunch.  I'm glad I experienced it prior to the Brighton Marathon in just 6 weeks time.  I've also felt good physically since as well.  There are the obvious signs of doing something rigorous in the muscles, but nothing that's absolute agony.

So the conclusion of this vile dribble?  Stress is bad, but running stupidly long distances and having battles with your mind over body can be rewarding come the end.

I'll end with a picture to keep the page colourful, I had to do a double take when running, and found this chap in Lesnes Abbey Woods