Thursday, 19 January 2012

Work and running

Combining the two is a pain in the arse.

And then you add life into the mix, and it gets even harder.

The weekend worked well. Long run Saturday (only 8.25 miles, but I'm happy with that), took the dogs for a long walk (can I add this to my mileage? It would skyrocket•), then worked all afternoon and got tons done. Sunday, with a mild, mild hangover, I walked the hounds then worked. Got everything done, pretty much. I also had a couple of shandies Sunday night, out of pure laziness. I knew, you see, that Monday would see no running, because I still had some pages to sort out and send off for print, so had to make sure they got done asap. That meant getting the dogs out bright and early, and back home at my desk for about 9:30.

I always try and walk them for about 2 hours in the morning, I think it sets the dogs up nicely for the day. Of course, after a six-mile run, that means I spend the rst of the day either eating or thinking about food.

Aaaaanyway, Monday I did all that, got the work done etc, then found out an old schoolfriend had died at the ever-so-young age of 38. She was a real sweetheart, someone I really liked and have done since we used to walk home from school together (well, she was walking to the bus stop) 25 years ago. I used to see her in the street in town and next thing you know, 20 minutes have passed and you're still gassing. She was great, and I will miss her.

Anyway, that fucked Tuesday's running because I got shitfaced on Monday night. Wednesday, I had to go to London to see Brooks' new lines of apparel and tweaks etc to shoes, which was interesting. A couple of things I really loved, too. But I didn't love getting the 7:46 train, then the 2:45 train home for a combined total of seven hours on trains not including the London Underground, which would make it a total of about 7:50.

No running that day either. I tried so hard to get up at 5 but after three nights of beer, my body told me to go and fuck myself.

Today, though, I started the day with a nice 4.5-mile jaunt. And now I'm at my desk, not working, with a phone interview about I know not what to do later, and a ton of stuff to do before it.

I don't know where I am going with this... The other thing I've been doing is sorting out models for our magazine shoots for the new running title. I'm determined to use real runners, not models because using models is absolutely infuriating to me. I want to see muscles in their legs, I want to see muddy running shoes and sweat. The last two covers of Runner's World UK have been fucking dreadful in that respect, and I do not want to go down that route; this means we have to be incredibly careful in how we coach them at the shoot, not to mention lighting and possibly a tiny amount of make-up. Models, after all, know how to model. Runners know how to run. I have to find the balance between the two.

Enough of my burble. Time to phone Nike.







• Are there other kinds??

1 comment:

  1. "I tried so hard to get up at 5 but after three nights of beer, my body told me to go and fuck myself." you crack me up, friend!

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