Well, I did warn you.
This week I should have hit 15.5 miles on my long run but it was a plan knackered by life. Friday I had a meeting with the company we hope to be our water suppliers for our September race event, and it was a 9am start. The rest of the morning was spent with my co-organiser, so even Millie the Dog didn't get a great walk. She did go and spend the day with my folks though, which she likes, not least because they have a garden and we don't.
Anyway, no run Friday except for a little two-miler in the morning. Saturday, me and Lovely Wife were on a training course for a Leadership in Running Fitness award. It was okay, but all day and another early start, so no long run as we'd be looking at a steady 2.5-2.75 hours or running. Not pretty, not quick, but effective.
After the course, we were due to go out to a fundraising evening, a gig held at a local brewery with three bands playing. Lovely Wife wasn't feeling up to it, so she stayed home and I took Stepdaughter and two of her friends. Great night, three excellent bands, and some lovely beer.
But that's where the problems began. I'd written off Sunday as a day to recover from everything and after a shitty week. Turned out I had to write off Sunday and today, because the beer I has Saturday night gave me absolutely chronic diarrhea through Saturday night and Sunday. It was fucking awful. Apparently it's something to do with a live ingredient in the beer; the lager is absolutely lovely, but it's not really working for me when I have to sacrifice an essential long run on not one day, but two. I had to err on the side of caution because with beer consumption, I would have been dehydrated; with beer and then shitting my bodyweight in brown fizzy gravy, I suspect my dehydration may have been much more severe. So that run is gone, I am not going to try to make it up as I'll end up with an overuse injury and scupper the marathon.
Bugger, shit and bollocks. I'm really struggling to think of anything positive that comes from beer right now.