I'm back!

Internet access has reached Dollar! You just don't realise how much you rely on it until you have to do without. Although I don't think I'm as bad as Al who worked himself up into a frenzy trying to figure out how he would find out what time the bus went in to Alloa: with no access at the cottage he's have to go to an internet cafe. But the nearest internet cafe was in Alloa. Perhaps he could phone a friend and get them to check the times online for him...I let him sweat for a little before pointing out that he was standing next to a bus stop with the timetable printed on it.

Sooo...

Apparently my last blog was on 27 April when I ran 20 miles and all was well in world of running. Ha! I should have known that wouldn't last. There followed a week of absolutely no running that I can recall at all. I think I was manically busy at work and also moaning about and dreading my 22 mile race. Came very close to not bothering to do it at all, but I couldn't face the thought of explaining to everyone at my birthday party that I'd bottled it so I dragged myself off.

It actually went rather well. It started with a leg massage from Fi and a rousing send-off from Helen, Colin, Mo and Hils - I was frankly astounded that they'd bothered to get out of bed for what I was considering to be a training run, and yet more touched when they showed up half way round and then at the end as well. Conditions were good: cool and a little wind but nothing major. Shit, it's a long way, though. To the power station, which had been my 10 mile half way mark the week before, was only 9 miles from Meadowbank, so I still had 13 to go. A long slog up the hill to Gullane and a short slog up a hill to some other little village just before North Berwick. Most of it escapes me except the bit where I nearly just stopped and asked the nearest marshal to drive me to the end (Gullane - but then I had to keep going because a car full of cheeseboarders was cheering me on) and the final two miles which were much aided by the knowledge that it was nearly over.

According to the garmin it was 21.84 miles in 3 hours 7 mins and 47 secs. Average pace 8.35 miles. This is much pretty good. Though it would still mean running a last 4.2 miles in 37 minutes to make under 3.45, which I'm fairly sure is impossible. I was doing 11 minute miles at the end and had means of going any faster.

But I was pretty much on track and looking forward to almost certainly getting a PB at the Dunfermline half the next Saturday.

There was an intervening period to celebrate my birthday, which was done in great style. Luckily everyone was kind enough to bog off and left me alone for my much needed post-long-run nap which set me up in great style for an evening of drinking and chatting at my party. It was lovely: like going to a party where you know and like everyone. Which, in fact, it was. The girls had decorated the bar with fantastic 'wanted' posters and everyone dressed up, which was much appreciated. Nothing worse than a themed party where no one makes an effort. And various friends who hadn't met before intermingled happily, which is always nice.

And I got lots of fabulous presents! I won't bore you with them but suffice to say I spent all night and most of the next day telling people what fantastic taste my friends have and what tasteful presents I'd received.

A much needed and relaxing spa day was Sunday's treat, with plenty of gossip with the girls, playing with bubbles and a massage and scrub that left us zombiefied (in a good way). Finished off with a meal at a great gastro pub.

Sadly I was starting to feel a bit queasy at this point. I was cheered by arriving back at the cottage to yet more tasteful presents cunningly arranged by the generous (and sneaky) Fi and Ailsa in my absence - I was truly being spoiled! And had a peaceful walk in the hills in gorgeous sunshine with Al.

But most of the next week was spent holding the fort at work through various non-emergencies and near-emergencies that meant I pretty much had to be in, then coming home and going straight to bed. On the plus side, I'd been meaning to register with a doctor in Dollar so I got around to doing that and got an appointment on Friday. It's fair to say I was pretty desperate at this point. The doc was very nice and told me I probably had gastroenteritis (sp?), but did not offer the instant cure I was looking for. Instead I was told to go home, rest, drink lots of liquid and not run a half marathon that weekend. Which is what I had been doing anyway. What's the point of doctors if they can't hand you a magic pill that makes you feel better?

So that was the half marathon out, and with it my final indicator of what the hell sort of time I might expect in the Big One. Which brings me up to date, more or less.

I finally felt 100% again on Sunday, when I went to a really enjoyable concert with Al - the Waifs, who I last saw live at the Byron Bay Blues Festival, were playing at the Queens Hall, of all places. It was great! The audience was a real mix of Aussies, young hippies and older non-hippies. We were somewhere in the middle. Emily Barker was the singer-songwriter support act who performed with just her and her guitar and had a great voice. Then the Waifs themselves were just really cool: a great mix of folk, rock, country and blues-swing type stuff that's hard to describe but kept it varied and tuneful. I wanted nothing more than to be in the band, they looked like they were having so much fun. And the one woman (Vicky?) was an amazing harmonica player! I have tried to play the harmonica and it's much, much harder than you think. I was jealous.

Also, it sounds spoddy, but it was made all the more enjoyable by the fact that the mixing was good. Queens Hall has quite odd acoustics (when I was buying tickets the guy asked if I'd been before. I said yes. He asked where I wanted to sit. I realised I'd never actually been in the audience before, only played there with the Edinburgh Phil, and had to admit I had no idea. He thought I was stoopid). But the Waifs were set up so you could hear each instrument and vocalist perfectly, from the double bass to the drums to the annoyingly talented keyboard player. Having that balance right was essential.

On Monday I ran the back road to Tilli and back along the railway track, starting with the steep farm hill. Not too fast, didn't time it. Yesterday did the same again but the other way around and without the steep farm hill. Had to wait for some bullocks to cross the road. Both felt fine, but then I was simply plodding along. Bit stiff today, which is hardly a good sign after what should have been two standard mid week runs. The Ruth who did nine and a half Yassos at the gym three weeks ago seems more like three years ago, so remote does that level of achievement feel.

I have absolutely no idea what to expect of the marathon now. In some ways training has been better than last year: certainly more consistent speed work and the 22 miler showed promise. But, like last year, I've missed and essential two weeks' training just before taper point and there's nothing I can do to get that back. Plus, I have come to the conclusion that it is simply not realistic for woman to run a 3.45 marathon on less than five days' training a week. And I am not prepared to sacrifice the rest of my life to the point of sustaining that level of training for three, two or even just one month.

I like running, and I like being fit. But it shouldn't be a chore that you dread, that means you turn down nights out or a glass of wine or that is always dictating your meals and bedtime. This is what I keep telling myself.

I will see how the conditions are on the day. If there's a strong head wind, I'm not going to fight it. If I start well, I'll push for a good time. I'll be disappointed with a non-PB - just as I was last year - but, despite giving it some serious consideration, I'm not going to drop out. Because Ailsa would kill me.

A few more medium runs, maybe a short speed session, and that's me done.