Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
Fluing And Flying
by Russell Turner - 19:56 on 24 November 2017
So it wasn’t a cold. When I began my marathon training I knew there might be some medical obstacles to overcome. Aches, sprains, blisters. Maybe torn ligaments or snapped tendons if I was really unlucky. Flu wasn’t considered once. And no, it isn’t manflu.
Tuesday, the day after my now easily explained difficult final C25k, was bad. Wednesday, much of it spent in bed, was worse, but at least I knew I’d soon be out the other side and heading speedily towards full health. Except that Thursday was even worse – not the best day for a flight to Heathrow.
Ensconced in the Heathrow Hilton (Matchgirl’s a card-carrying fan) I returned to bed, rising only for my first meal of the day – some nourishing soup which I didn’t quite finish. The morning must be better.
One of the many things Matchgirl likes about Hilton is its wide breakfast choice. She’d even paid for it in advance, which was a pity. My usual chain hotel breakfast is fruit and yogurt, full English/Scottish (delete as appropriate), toast and marmalade, lots of tea and fruit juice. Today I couldn’t get beyond the yogurt. What a waste.
Matchgirl, bless her, was concerned, and at least I was helping take her mind off all her usual pre-race worries. She even offered to pay for an extra night in the Hilton and change my ticket so I could follow her a day later. I declined. The thought of negotiating Heathrow alone, when an over-enthusiastic kitten could have knocked me over, didn’t appeal.
Back in the terminal we met up with Cathy the Runner and UltraPaul, both of whom were wise enough to attempt no more than basic conversation with me. The flight to Pisa (we didn’t see the tower) was even more cramped than the one from Inverness, but there was good news: I was able to eat and enjoy one of BA’s M&S Turkey Feast sandwiches – my first solid food for more than 36 hours.
Outside the airport, we gathered with more runners being organised by Full Potential (the group Matchgirl and Cathy favour), and who must have wondered why Matchgirl was married to such a miserable git. Several Italian miles later we arrived at the Hotel Mediterraneo in Florence where I took to my bed again, not being up to socialising.
This meant I missed the welcome dinner. However, two packs of Italian supermarket sandwiches and a banana suggest I really am improving, although not fast enough to participate in tomorrow’s two-mile trot with the real runners. Shame. All being well I’ll make my Italian running debut next week.
Things could be worse. Since Tony and Soo the cat-sitters arrived last week they’ve suffered a rubbish self-catering flat, Tony ripped the exhaust off his car and today he slipped on ice outside Tesco and banged his head. Their taking possession of The Rural Retreat coincided with the first ground-level snow this winter. Here it’s a balmy 14ºC, although that’s forecast to plummet to 4ºC on race day, which will suit Matchgirl much better. Except she forgot to bring a running waterproof. Cue more worrying.
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