EIGHTEEN

Guys, eighteen miles, this morning. EIGHTEEN.

It was a very pleasant fifteen degrees when I went out but a rather warm twenty-two by the time I arrived home. The Minx had long since finished her couch to 10k session and was busy blasting the driveway with the Kärcher. I was so goosed, I couldn't even talk. I just sat on the wall. 

And while my recovery time is very good, these days, this was nearly two miles further than I've ever run before, so I was still a little out of it while we had lunch at The Tatham Bridge Inn (would heartily recommend) and then, when we went to the Greenfoot Garden Centre (pictured and adored by the Minx), I didn't manage to do anything more than go to the café and order a milkshake. (Good but not a patch on Nellie and Marls'.)

I was a bit better by the evening, when I summoned the energy to go for a curry with Dan but it looks as though this marathon training is going to have a bit of an impact on my weekends.

****
-13.5kgs
0 words
Reading: 'The Underground Railroad'