To market, to market to buy a fat pig;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.
To market, to market, to buy a plum cake;
Home again, home again, market is late.
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun;
Home again, home again, market is done.
To market, to market, a gallop a trot,
To buy some meat to put in the pot;
Three pence a quarter, a groat a side,
If it hadn’t been killed it must have died.
This is an old nursery rhyme, and today I ran from home (on my rest day!!!!) to Borough Market, because yesterday I screwed up on my maths and didn’t quite make the numbers – aka Stupid Tart Syndrome. I neither galloped nor trotted nor jigged, but I did buy a fat pig, I bought two gorgeous, lovely sausage rolls from The Ginger Pig butchers in Borough. Horrendously priced, but a fab treat for later.
Couldn’t find a plum cake nor bun, but I did have a pain au raisin with my coffee – dead posh us Southerners.
Didn’t buy any meat for the pot either, but did get some lush mushroom pate and sourdough bread – see I am totally posh, despite my Northern upbringing.
Yesterday I couldn’t count, but today Map My Run lady decided to be stroppy, and she thought she’d count the time I was running, but not give me any credit for the distance. She did this twice…, so I had to guesstimate the metres missed…. Bah humbug
When MMR lady deigned to work properly I found I was running speedily and my little posh legs were motoring quite nicely. From a busy Aldersgate I bombed towards St Pauls dodging the morning commuters. Today I was most definitely a running ninja, I slipstreamed and overtook loads of people in and around the City. I realise that none of them knew they were in a race, nor had any of them dressed for it, but victory is sweet even when you’ve overtaken a lady wearing stiletto heels and carrying a briefcase/backpack thing – a briefpack maybe?
I made my way across the Thames and hit South Bank, the barriers to speed arrived thick and fast, lots and lost of people and lot and lots of tourists too. Commuters are fine when I’m running through the City – they know the rules. Move fast or stand aside, tourists however don’t know the rules at all. They have that happy meandering look on their faces, they stop and take unexpected photos (in fairness totally expected near the Golden Hind replica) and they have conversations in weird places – i.e. right in front of me/my running route.
You have to have lightning reactions or sharp elbows to work your way through a barricade of tourists (my new collective noun). Today my reactions were sharp, so my elbows didn’t need to be. A nice quick (for me) run out, getting me over the 1800km mark – next target getting over the 1818km mark, so I will have fewer than 200kms to run
Finally many thanks to Mike of Mr JCR’s London cycling club who sponsored me yesterday for my challenge. Utterly unexpected and very lovely.
(iTunes also played up and stopped once or twice)
Tears You Can’t Hide – Madness
Suspect Device (twice) – Stiff Little Fingers
I Don’t Know (twice) – The Blues Brothers
Runnin’ Down A Dream – Tom Petty
Just Another Nervous Wreck – Supertramp
Rockferry – Duffy
One Step Beyond – Madness
Average Pace 6:08 (ninja like)
Elevation Gain 28 metres
Kms Run 1805.87
Kms To Run 212.13