It’s never been known – JCR is awake, its eight o’clock in the morning, it’s a Sunday, and it’s supposed to be a scorchio day. All of which are very good reasons to get up and go out for that early morning run. Sets you up for the day, but then again the duvet is nice and warm and I have the newspaper to read. And we are in lockdown, so frankly there’s no hurry for doing a damn thing.
Prevarication and faffing set the tone, meaning I didn’t actually shift my arse until about three hours later. Lou Reed started me off singing Perfect Day, which acted as a nice spur.
Unfortunately Paula is still playing up, thus any plans for longer distance runs are out for the moment, so I limited myself to my local loop of London Wall, Wood Street and Fore Street. And to mix it up a bit I ran clockwise – I know it’s dead exciting in this running world isn’t it? And it took me past Peter Parka’s Prowling and Scowling Post, which was empty. And what do you know, he is guarding an “Out of Hours Pick Up Point” , so clearly this is the place to go if you want to be picked up, but only when he’s not guarding it.
All my previous thoughts about gold, diamonds or chocolate were clearly wide of the mark. But I needed to focus a little as I had a slightly twingey knee and didn’t want to cause any problems with it. I settled nicely into a pace and started my triangular loops, first five minutes fine, second absolutely fine until Mr Smooth said you’re 10 minutes in and for some unknown reason I felt tired and slowed down, which was ridiculous really. I gave myself a good talking to and started people watching, there’s quite a number of new runners out – you can usually tell by the kit they are wearing, the colour of their faces but usually by the rather battered ‘gardening trainers’ being worn.
I saw one mum running with her young daughter (I guess), they were very seasoned runners and doing interval runs sprinting and slowing down, very encouraging but at this stage of my running, sprinting is something to watch, not to do.
Then I saw a running belly of the male variety, obviously trying to lose some of the corona belly affliction – along with I imagine more than half of the population.
My people watching was interrupted by a plonker on a bike doing a wheelie on the pavement coming towards me. My internal ranting starts – it’s a Sunday, it’s quiet, there’s no traffic on London Wall, but you decide to cycle wheelie towards me on the pavement. I silently hex him and hope he falls off and breaks a body part. Oh and he’s the usual plonker stereotype male, in a hoodie, track pants, big trainers, in his twenties, close-shaven head and his Beats on.
He didn’t fall off. but I run in hope that one day he does. The good thing about having an internal rant was that I’d totally lost track of time and when Mr Smooth told me I had only sixty seconds to go I felt fine. Job done and a warm down walk to Sunday Morning by the Velvet Underground, perfect material for lowering the blood pressure and taking a stroll home.
Passing the pick up point, I noticed it was now occupied by a new guardsman, not wearing a parka, and he was smoking like a chimney, proper smoking not vaping. I crossed the road to avoid the fug – Peter Parka won’t be happy when he’s back on shift tomorrow as his little cubbyhole will be very pongy. But then from what I’ve seen he’s never happy anyway.
One more run to go to graduation and then me and Mr Smooth are done on the dating front.
8km/walk and run combo – best split 6 minutes 15 seconds – which was just prior to seeing the plonker
3 takeaways delivered to Roman House – evidently a Deliveroo hot spot
About 20 people in the queue for Marks and Spencers on Old Street
- Hip Flexor Things
- Pelvic Thrusts
- Toe Touching
Best Track – Sunday Morning by Velvet Underground