The running is going well, for someone with an injury.
The sore hip is responding well to the underpants only manipulation but the ramping up of the mileage has meant that the slightly sore knee has become a pretty sore knee. The worst is the day after a long run. The knee is pretty sore for about 24 hours after the run and then it fades away and we’re good to go for the next run.
I am well ahead on the long runs with an 18 miler done last Sunday and I think I’ll take a week off some time between now and the marathon on 6th of June. This should allow the knee to settle down a bit.
My strategy of 6 runs a week is starting to pay off with 48 miles last week. The HR is dropping for the pace – the 18 miler was done at 8:11 pace and a 145 HR – the first 10 miles were well under 140 which is always a good sign for me. I’ve managed to make the weekend hill run come in under 60 minutes as well – this is a drop of 4 minutes for the same effort over the last 4 weeks. Part of this is down to the fact that I am getting up an hour later and so the feeling of starting the run while being asleep is receding.
Now the main topic of this post. My kids are getting to an age where in the next 5 years I’ll have to invest in a dog – When I say invest I mean go to the dogs’ home and pick up a stray. The pestering has started already. I’ve started with the normal things to make them think about the real implications of ownership- taking a shit on the floor and asking the kids to clear it up after me; promising to take them to the Vet if they stop walking the dog and make them watch the Vet put the dog to sleep.
I think they’ll keep pestering so even though I am saying no to their face I’ll be saying yes when the day comes.
The best part of being out running every day is you get to see what sort of dogs are popular. Now, when I was a kid there were two types of dogs – small terriers – good for ratting – and something you got from a cousin or uncle in the country – a collie, a labrador, a setter or an alsatian. There were some sad souls who had the misfortune to own some sort of small yelping toy dog – some sort of thing with a pitiful bubble perm.
There was also the obvious dog to suit the owner thing – y’know – a spaniel for some sort of orienteering nut, a Staffordshire bull terrier for a fireman, a collie for a shepherd.
Well. from my totally unscientific straw poll of dog types in my neighbourhood it seems that the only type of dog available is the small bubble permed white yelping jobbie. Some sort of mincing cross between a poodle and a shi-tzu. I can cope with this as it means that I know what I definitely won’t be getting. I’ll be getting something bigger and with less of a leo sayer hair style.
What I can’t understand is how grown men can walk in public with one of these little noise machines. Is it because I’ve had a metrosexual bypass or is it because I couldn’t live with something so ignorant of its own ridiculousness. I shit you not, everyone has one of these. Of the 5 dogs on my street 5 of them are this sort of yelping shitebag.
Now, there’s a lady up the road who owns a great dane (i wonder if she calls it Hamlet?) and even though she must always have a plastic bag full of shit in her pocket I’d say she’s great craic.
Good luck to all running Connemara this weekend. I am nervous just thinking about it – and I’m not even running it.