Ran Over 20 Miles For The First Time Ever In A Long Run. Major Cow Trouble In Belfast And On Train Home!
Today for the first time in a long run outside of a marathon I recorded over 20 miles in a long run.
What made the difference distance wise was bringing a litre of Lucozade Sport with me and 6 SIS blackcurrant gels in my Camelbak.
I took a gel every 1.5 mile after 10 miles and fortunately I didn’t have any digestion problems.
I made sure to ingest each gel slowly as I’ve heard that too much, too soon can trigger a heroic dose of the shits.
Towards the end the extra energy boost really made the difference and I ended up on 20.7 miles which I was very proud of given that I’d ran a tough half marathon 24 hours before it.
Verbal GBH from a random Belfast heroine
I finished just outside Robinson’s bar opposite Great Victoria Street in Belfast.
A mouthy, inbred Belfast girl started talking shit about me behind my back, so I turned around, took one look at her and knew it wasn’t worth saying anything in my defense.
She was sitting at 7pm on a Sunday in Belfast giving abuse to strangers.
She was what the British call a “BIRD!”. Bubbly. Bit hard to handle. In your face.
The type of fucking asshole who would post Marilyn Monroe quotes on her Facebook like…
“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”
No. You’re a fucking asshole and you deserve to be blasted off into space with the rest of the debris and the filth.
Go back to whatever planet spawned you, you slag!
I refused to let her ruin my joy at and had 2 bottles of Kopparberg at the station bar to celebrate a successful run.
This was to be a key error.
Cows on the train line home.
When I run into Belfast I rely on the train to get me home.
Usually the service is quite reliable, but with this being Northern Ireland we’re prone to little incidents from time to time.
Today’s calamity involved 30 cows on the train line just short of home.
The train stopped just short of the platform and the conductor came over the PA with an ominous message for his Sunday commuters.
“Sorry folks, but we aren’t going anywhere. There are 30 cows on the train track.”
30 cows on the train track!?!
What could they possibly want?
Should we cave into their demands?
Why not just rev the train up and see if they scatter?
They weren’t gonna scatter.
A voice in my head was goading me about the only alternative…..
“So Mr 50K, run home if you’re really gonna do this race on Saturday!”
And I set off. It was only a 5k but it was the most miserable experience of my life. I had to run along the country road that’s lined with cow fields.
All I could hear for those 5,000m were the cows goading me with “MOO!” “MOOOOOO!” “MOOOOOOOOOO!”
The worst bit was the Kopparberg stitch. For the last mile I was in agony and constantly worried that I was gonna vomit. I wanted to put my hand over my mouth and my ass at the same time as I was starting to feel the effect of energy gels and Swedish cider mixing in my belly.
I slowed up, battled on through and finished the run in just under 32 minutes.
I’m now enjoying a recovery Pot Noodle in the safety of the spare bedroom as there is currently a number of Crane flies buzzing around my light in my computer room and they freak me the hell out.
I hope you all had good long runs today!
Update September 1st 22:14:35 – On my second recovery Pot Noodle now and my stomach is making strange noises. Hollow gurgling. If I were to fart it’d likely contain more reverb than the entire Pet Shop Boys discography. Not gonna trust a fart this soon after a long run.