The recovery from the highland fling has gone well. This means that I did the sensible thing and stayed off the running for about a week.
I was press-ganged into building a fence that I had been putting off for about a year and the only thing it thought me was that the upper body strength required to dig the post holes, mix and place the concrete and hump all the timber about was not compatible with my other hobby (the running one, not the budget wine appreciation society).
Apart from that I had a fancy dress party to attend (the younger brother’s 40th) where, like everyone else, I left it ’till the last-minute before I picked my costume. The theme was fairy tales and nursery rhymes so my scope was limited. Did I go as Richard the Lion Hearted? – An easy costume as all you need is a lion mask, a giant plastic heart and a kid’s sword……..and to be called Richard – or something more daring?
In the end I succumbed to the urge most straight men have and I put on a dress and knee-high stockings and went as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.
I promise a photograph once I get them from the other camera.
The down side of this is that wearing nothing but a skimpy dress, a pair of boxer shorts and about 7 pints of beer has left me with a voice that makes Tom Waits sound like a member of One Direction. On the scale of men’s voices I’m about 3 octaves below gravelly.
The problem with not fitting running into your daytime routine is that it starts to seep into your dreams. Anyone who has ever tapered before a big race will understand this. Well, the gravel-voiced recovery period of enforced non-running is doing the same to me.
This morning I work up from a dream so vivid that I had to check to see if I was wearing running shoes in bed. If there was a soap opera based on ultra marathons the following would make a good end of season cliff hanger:
I was over in Scotland to run a short urban ultra marathon that was taking place, surprisingly, in a city not unlike Cork. I had been put up for the night by John Kynaston and another runner, Elspeth Jenkins was there as well.
We had no drop bag plans and no nutrition plans for the race and I ended up having to start the race with some chocolate biscotti as the only food to eat during the race. We also didn’t know the route. As I would be the fastest runner (I told you it was a dream) this was a big concern.
On the night before the race John’s daughter (I assume he has one or it was a soap opera actress) told me that John was on his second or third marriage and had been married to several other ultra runners before.
This was a big secret and I wasn’t to tell anyone as it would tarnish his ‘boy next door’ image.
I then spent the rest of the dream in a chase sequence where I was running the ultra marathon, frantically looking for food and I kept getting lost as I didn’t know the route and was a bit frightened as I was carrying around this big secret with me. It was that classic feeling you have in dreams where you seem to be making no progress (running through treacle) and nobody seems to be as worried as you are about your predicament. That feeling of panic as all your problems mount up.
And then one of the kids jumps on you and the dream is over.
I’m sure all the main characters in the dream are fine and upstanding people and it is more a case of my troubled psyche projecting my own warped thoughts onto them.
(that last bit is the disclaimer in case I’ve actually unveiled a dark secret by accident).