Lockwood the Labrador, currently Lord of the Manor (RIP Sir Scruffalot), always watches me when I’m on the treadmill. He lies in front, then walks around to the back, around the sides and then back to the front where he ponders life. I really hope he is coming to the conclusion that running on the ‘mill is a wonderful way to keep the mud off one’s paws. Vacuuming and mopping an old farmhouse with mud on the floors is a pain in the butt but I try desperately to see it as cross training, freaking boring as it is.
Now onto Ladysmith. I was so chuffed with my 21,1km there on the weekend and so is Coach Mo. I was hoping for bang on 3 hours but it was really hilly, which, thank goodness, the Cape Town marathon is not. So, as I say, really chuffed with my progress.
Now the Running Gods never seem pleased when pride creeps in, so obviously I had to wake up with a scratchy throat this morning. I’m really hoping it stays as just a scratchy throat because I haven’t had such a good training streak for a long time.
I also woke up from a really hectic dream where I was running Comrades with no shoes and no watch. But that’s not all - it had been rerouted around the Cape Peninsula and then up to Durban, was on trail and was self navigated. For someone that battles with simple left and right that was a true nightmare. I pray I never go mad enough to enter a self navigated trail race.
So onwards and upwards we go, mainly on tar road, and always with good direction markers!