The undoing of my running

Me lolling with a holiday book while Mr M takes in the view

Me lolling with a holiday book

While I’m confessing my holiday misdemeanours I thought I might as well illustrate my undoing. See. Sunny sky. Roof-top terrace. Sea view. Cathedral view actually.

Lovely Palma. But not very good for your running speed. No.

Back and running… after a fashion

So, I’m back from Palma, tan miraculously still in tact and keen to get back out there running.

I’ve also put on 5lbs. How did that happen? Hmmm… tapas, cerveza, lolling about on a roof-top terrace reading, turning over and then reading… you get the picture.

But at 8am this morning I was out and jogging, if not running, with the plan to do an hour’s gentle run. Just to break myself back in.

Slightly over ambitious, it seems. It felt like I was dragging a sack of potatoes behind me. Or 5lbs of potatoes strapped to my middle, if I’m being slightly less dramatic.

From the first ten minutes I could feel muscles complaining, by 30 minutes I was wheezing and puffing as well. By 35 minutes I’d relented and was  run-walking my way home.

Not exactly encouraging and when Mr M asked how my run had gone I think the word ‘murder’ may have been mentioned. Like I say; I’m prone to dramatising.

I’ve had a bit of a scout round the internet to see if I can find anything about post-holiday running. I found a few blogs, like this one, which suggests I’m not alone. And realistically I’ve hardly been eating the diet of an athlete.

“I don’t suppose Jessica Ennis trains on a diet of salty snacks and beer,” I pondered as the sweat ran in rivulets from my forehead.

So, I probably got the run I asked for. You reap what you sow and all that. So shredded wheat for breakfast, homemade vegetable soup for lunch and chicken stir fry for tea.

Onwards, upwards and ever onwards to picking up speed.