The GPRS is playing up, so today the app decided it took me over 10 minutes to run a kilometre, which even by my snail standards is a tad slow. It had already decided at the beginning of my run that I’d sprinted across olive groves, fields of wheat and ignored the roads. So in essence I was about 350 metres down on my measurements of this run. In the challenge I don’t need my app to try and do me favours by straightening my routes, I need all the lumps, bumps and curves I can get.
Speaking of which these lumps, bumps and curves may have set the scene for today’s run as it was all skin and blister. I’ve developed a rather large blister on the top of my big toe (eeuugghh). No need for a spoiler alert – there isn’t going to be a frightening pic of my goat’s hoof, no-one deserves see it. Except for Mr JCR that is, who had the unenviable task of telling me what it was, seeing as neither my driving glasses or reading glasses, gave me the optical depth of field to see what this thing was on my toe. He manned up and duly gave me the diagnosis, ‘it’s a blister, something has been rubbing the top of your toe’
This is my first honest to goodness visible runner injury since starting the challenge. One blister in almost 650 km, that means I’ve only got another 2 and a bit blisters to the end of the year. Bet you’re looking forward to those updates.
To the run – a quiet warm Saturday afternoon, hardly anyone around, I managed to make about 5km before my first narrow miss, when a very old Fiat Cinquecento and its even older owner, was so dazzled by my pink geometric capris, that he seemed to aim his car towards me. Eek.
With my heartbeat returning somewhat to normal I entered the fish shop village where rampaging hordes of pre-teens came out onto the barely there pavements. One group decided walking three abreast on a teeny tiny pavement would be just the thing to do to a middle aged wheezing runner, so she got pushed out into the road.
My Italian friends M&G say that I am allowed to swear as much as I like in English because nobody knows the words, therefore my swearing doesn’t count. Calling three 12 year olds ‘f..kwits’ doesn’t count then. And I’m sure there’s some point in life when English swear words are known – let’s assume it is older than they were, otherwise I may face some local vigilante action. It’s not as if there are lots of batty middle aged English women running the roads of Le Marche, to make me difficult to find. Especially in these snazzy capris.
About two clicks from the finish, everything else went to plan, except when passing two old ladies one who had one of those rat dogs on a leash – and it went for my ankle. That got some choice English language too.
Todays stats for my run, one f….d GPRS, 3 f..kwits, 1 eff off, 1 blister and 9 more effing kms in the bag.
Say My Name – Destiny’s Child
Love Is All Around – The Wets
I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston
Killing Me Softly With His Song – The Fugees
Nothing Compares 2 U – Sinead O’Connor
Dub Be Good To Me – Beats International
The Power – SNAP
Killer – Adamski, Seal
The One And Only – Chesney Hawkes
Dizzy – Vic Reeves And The Wonder Stuff
End Of The Road – Boyz II Men
Would I Lie To You? Charles and Eddie
Oh Carolina – Shaggy
Cream – His Purple Highness
Gangsta’s Paradise – Coolio
Move Any Mountain – The Shamen
Devotion – Nomad
The Key, The Secret – Urban Cookie Collective
Everybody’s Free – Rozalla
Distance 9.23km (estimate because of GPRS failure)
Average Pace: 6:15
Elevation Gain 36 metres
Kms Run 641.28
Kms to do 1376.72