West London Walkabout

My leg had been acting up over the last day or so and so obviously I went for another run this morning. I figured, my odds had to be in – what could possibly go wrong? I am on day 3 of a 4 day weekend, the weather throughout has been outrageously majestic, I managed to ineptly assemble a surprisingly satisfactory video tribute to my home town (see prior post you heathen, Arsenal had crawled to another painstaking win against some other sorry bag of wankers in Shepherd’s Bush and had I ended the day by going out to the pub with two of my best friends from my childhood, to sup on whatever fizzy bullshit the vendor had arbitrarily stocked behind the counter, recounting tales of all the erratic ventures of our childhood. To share with you one interesting anecdote – on one occasion, Neil, one of our best friends from childhood turned 18 and did the only honourable thing to do in this situation and threw a stupidly big house party. Amongst nocturnal house egging trips, Police cautions, romantic fumblings and vomit we had a bit of fun. Neil spent the greater portion of the evening too inebriated to speak, topless with firm Irish nipples to the world. At one point I convinced him to throw himself into our band’s drum kit. For the life of me, I cannot recall whether he did. That man however, is about to have his first child, ladies and gentleman. He will rear life. The man who I spent the whole night awake with at a festival, so he wouldn’t aspirate on his own vomit as he slept face first in the ground, will be a father. Such is life.

Which brings me to this morning. I decided to broach the giddy heights of a 10K and do my loop of Gunnersbury Park. From Ealing, through Walpole Park, down the A406, around Gunnersbury and back makes for a nice 10K if you’re interested. It is fairly flat with an elevation of 24m and a suitably fast course, if you can manage. At the moment, with my geriatric fitness, this is very much not the goal. Simply making it is.

Right at from the start my knee announced itself, the complete and absolute prick. It decided to accompany me through the entirety of my run, waxing and waning at points, always present. I chose to ignore it for the most part, but can I assure you, it is the most detracting of injuries. It doesn’t quite hurt to cause pain and it is not apprehending to the extent that I cannot function. It beguiles me and I, who on occasion forget where I am, do not need these kind of perplexments. I just made that word up.

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The weather was good, as you can see above and ideal for rapid movements on a Sunday morning. I ran 9.35K in 51:22 min. I decided to avoid the full 10K, because I’m nice to my leg like that. These are my splits.

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Nothing particularly interesting to report. I was trying so hard to keep the workout anaerobic and improve my fitness in the long run (INTENTIONAL USE OF PUN) but as you can see from my heart rate, my heart was having none of that shit.

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You can see that I hadn’t even been running for 5 minutes and my heart was up at 160bpm. That is simply astounding – I know I have said this repeatedly but HOW CAN 2 MONTHS FUCK A BROTHER UP LIKE THIS? The world is a racist place.

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