So I’m sitting on my sofa, totally naked apart from my socks and sports bra (but sitting on my somewhat sweaty shirt, for everyone that visits me and sits on my sofa), and I am exhausted. I am exhausted, not from another Olympics watching marathon, but from completing my longest training run ever of 18 miles. There were moments of pain, moments of needing to just get through it, moments of chanting ‘Michael Phelps’ in my head (thanks to Amy’s recent post), and moments of elation (the end), but it is done, despite the fact that I left my flat this morning doubtful that I would even get into double figures.
Because I’m pretty spent, I thought I would share my run today with you all via the medium of photography. Phone photography to be exact.
I started later than anticipated, so by the time I left the sun was really beating down (for Scotland), so I am glad I plastered myself with suntan lotion, despite really hating the feel of the stuff. I thought I’d try and get some mind-numbing miles out of the way on the old Railway line:
Unfortunately, the railway line is rife with flying pests that usually end up stuck on my suntan lotion-laden face, and occasionally in my eye. When I have my phone and this happens, I usually have to take a couple of shots to try and locate the offending insect. I’m blind in one eye, so bug + eyeball = slight problem sometimes.
After the railway line and a lap of Duthie Park, I headed back into town and then towards the beach for what I was hoping would be a scenic lap with lots going on to take attention away from any pain I might be feeling. Unfortunately, as I approached the beach, I was met by this sight:
The fog only thickened during my lap of the beach boulevard, to the point where visibility was probably only about 30 feet ahead at times. So much for people watching…
After breaking out the music for the final 4 miles, I was done! And obviously, that means treating myself. And since I was at the beach, what better way to celebrate my longest training run than this?
Armed with my ice-cream, I began the mile or so ‘cool down walk’ back home. I passes an overpass that I walk past, no joke, at least twice a day and there was a train on the tracks. I think in the several years I have lived here, I have only seen a train there once before. So obviously I took a photo, like a lame tourist.
Further along, in one of the ‘squares’ in Aberdeen, there was some, I want to say Bollywood, but I could be wrong, dancing going down. They were pretty good, and definitely more interesting than, you know, pan pipes:
FINALLY I returned home, and experienced an ungodly pain when I disrobed and realized I had ignored the golden rule of chick running: Don’t wear fancy new panties on a long run. There is going to be swearing in the shower very shortly, but they are super cute, so I couldn’t help including a shot. They came with a matching bra, but don’t worry, I’m not retarded enough to venture out with a stiff under-wire chest-shredder:
And because no photo post seems complete without a glimpse of my gnarly feet, I present to you one a pretty gross blood blister on my left foot. I’m actually amazed that this is pretty much the worst I have experienced, bar one toenail that’s seemingly cracked in half, since upping my miles. I will be mega impressed if I can keep all my toenails, because I am hitting up my pedicurist after the marathon, big style, and I’d like a colourful shade for my October holidays to Houston.
To everyone else doing long runs or racing this weekend, I wish you luck. I’m off for a shower, and then some delicious beef rendang. And beer. Cold, sexy beer.