Did my long run today instead of the traditional Sunday as I am working tomorrow.
10 miles, not too much pain other than the last mile or so, which is par for the course when increasing mileage in my opinion. No real excitement. I did consider doing a sort of opposite of Ray Mears (like the Anti-Mears) and listing the things found along the A281 that you shouldn’t eat. But I will save that for another day. There are quite a few.
After long run got packed and trotted down to Gatwick to fly to Edinburgh or to be more accurate Edinburgh Airport Travelodge which is (as is normal with Tlodges) nowhere near the airport or Edinburgh. I am a reluctant fan of Tlodges, I need to use them as we have to take the cheapest option for work, but I have only ever been in 2 unclean ones in 6.5 years, and only ever had one grumpy staff member. Normally the staff make up for the budgettyness, as they are so human (more so than real hotels in my experience). But do beware the northern un-refurbished ones, they can never get the fag smoke out of the carpets.
I have been a bit busy at work, so haven’t investigated whether I can run from here. I have my stuff. I have written my talk for tomorrow (20 minutes ago). Now I had a grotty run, and got lost last year for the same event but in Glasgow. It doesn’t look pretty. But perhaps not impossible, though I have to be at the Botanic Garden by 10am tomorrow. Looking at the potential for transport links, I may need to get a cab.
But anyway, what I wanted to blog while I was running was how horrible last weekend was. I had 2 wipeout days where I just ate or drank, and I really don’t remember much, other than watching Netflix. I know I was really tired from the busy work week, but I just bombed. I need to remember not to get in that position again, but I don’t know how. It has so many repercussions: I don’t water my plants, I don’t run, I get fat and miserable (or fatter and miserabler) meaning my self-esteem takes another hit. And I waste so much of my life – I have things that I want to do, and when I am tortoiseing (pulling everything in and hiding in my shell) I can do nothing- no cooking, washing, watering, washing up, writing, watering, seeing people. I can just about move and breathe and consume. There was a period of about a day where I didn’t open the blinds, which is anathema to me, as my little photosynthesising pets don’t get light. One of the things that pisses me off is that I can still spend money while I am semi-comatose (Amazon etc). I spent an hour watching Slim or Molly rush (in slug terms) home after a late night.
I ended up having to take Monday as annual leave, for which read sick-leave as I have virtually no sick left till the end of the year, and I am very anxious I will lose it and need to take a week to vacuum my head. Monday was ok, but only because I flung myself into spending to sort out my malaise.
I am bad at recognising tired and dealing with it healthily (she says in a Tlodge with a bottle of wine and some peanuts). I just ignore it and then think I am relaxing, but I am actually going tits up (sorry for the terminology, it was an ex-term that I have never shaken, it just works). I know what I should do: meditate, yoga, run, garden, read, write. But I don’t. I get stuck in the eating bread in front of Netflix with a bottle of wine thing. I do realise it could be worse, but I don’t want it to be my normal, if you see what I mean.
End of whine. Do please add your own more worthy ones in comments. Or ideas?