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.
Fears For The Future
by Russell Turner - 17:25 on 13 March 2020
Friday the 13th, and coronavirus is beginning to bite in The Rural Retreat. Not that we have it (as far as we know), just that its consequences are becoming apparent.
Of immediate concern to Matchgirl is her forthcoming trip to Plague Island, aka Shetland, where six cases are confirmed. (None in Highland yet, although a Caley Thistle player is awaiting test results.) Loganair, who fly the jetsetter to her monthly appointments, are cancelling flights every day, leaving her unsure whether she’ll be able to return, with or without the virus.
Should she catch it from a Viking, she knows where she can self-isolate for seven days, which is a comfort.
The alternative is to scrap this month’s visit and take the financial hit that goes along with it; doing the same in April and May could involve much belt-tightening in the Retreat. Any effect on my contribution to the household purse is as yet unknown: City Limits gigs may dry up if crowded pubs are closed or brides-to-be reschedule weddings for safer times. As for bookings at holiday parks, of which we’ve two next month, we might as well play on a cruise liner.
Showing off my Inverness Half Marathon medal and shirt – they may be the last Scottish trophies for some time.
But the greatest impact is on my athletic hopes. Matchgirl is happy run for the sake of running; I like to run with a race target. Many are about to be snatched away following the Scottish Government’s advice that outdoor gatherings of more than 500 people should not take place.
The Alloa half at the end of the month is at risk, the Glenlivet 10k in April and, worst of all, the Edinburgh Marathon in May, when infection is forecast to be at its peak. Decisions will be made over the weekend. As Boris is a bit more laissez faire than Nicola, my trip to England next weekend is still OK (for now) but further races south of the border are sure to be overwhelmed sooner or later. It’s just as well I didn’t have a London Marathon place this year – if that’s cancelled there’ll be thousands of very unhappy runners.
Training will continue, with crossed fingers, and if the worst happens I’ll run a solo Cromarty Half Marathon or an unofficial Loch Ness Marathon (Matchgirl is keen) and award myself a virtual medal. With luck it will all be over by August when I take on the York 10k the day after I’m 62. That’s assuming I survive. Elderly begins at 60, according to Boris’s scientific minions. Cheek.
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