Stopped Running On A Long Slow Distance Run In The Middle Of Sailortown.
The plan today was 14 miles and I managed to run 14.4, but I’m still quite disappointed by how the run ended.
Don’t stop in Sailortown
For once I wasn’t retching at the smell coming from the animal feed factory, but I was exhausted from today’s run and my 11 miler yesterday.
It’s such a lonely and tense walk through Sailortown when you’ve stopped running.
You never know who you’re gonna see about.
This may be Sailortown, but I’m no low-rent whore.
What worries me most when I’m there is that I haven’t cut my hair in 4 months and could easily be mistaken from behind for a low-rent whore by a horny deck-hand.
I was waiting on someone drawing up next to me in a car and sticking a fiver between my man breasts and asking for a quickie.
Luckily, this did not happen.
I’m losing at the long slow distance runs at the minute.
Joking aside, I’m out of practice with long runs and struggle pushing through the pain barrier.
I capitulate far too easily.
The run was all superb up until the last 2 or 3 miles. I was aiming for a sub 10 minute mile pace and I was well on target until I ran a 10:05 at mile 11.
From then on everything got to me.
More dog trouble.
The coastal path towards Belfast was full of dog walkers who hadn’t their pets under control. This meant that there was many doggy bust-ups which fucking ruined my racing line.
I can’t fucking believe that some owners think that they can somehow talk their dog out of a fight with another one.
If you haven’t got the animal under control, shouting “COME BACK JIMMY!” isn’t gonna fucking work.
The animal senses danger and it will do anything to protect it’s territory.
Pushing through Sailortown.
I continued to walk on through Duncrue Street and eventually got to the train station.
Being extremely thirsty from the run and with only 15 minutes until my train arrived, I made the decision to sprint across Shore Road to Home Bargains, where I picked up a 6 pack of Lucozade Sport for £3.
I caught the train with 2 minutes to spare and downed 5x500ml bottles of the drink in about 10 minutes to celebrate.
The women sat across from me where not impressed by my sweatiness nor my declaration of war on my thirst.
I could sense that they thought I was some kind of wanton alcoholic who was wearing a technical running shirt that he’d stolen off a washing line after waking up naked and handcuffed to a soiled sofa in an alleyway.
They even went to the liberty of spraying some Lynx deodorant at me and cackling.
I won’t let this one bad run get me down.
More importantly, I’ve now ran over the half marathon distance twice in 2 weeks, making me confident for the Dublin half marathon next Monday.