Well, I started this week with the plan to run five miles every day, minimum. I failed, but looking back that was a fucking silly idea.
Tuesday I ran a solid 5.5 miles, then Wednesday I had a full day of travel to get to Vitoria. Left the house at 9am, got to my hotel at 9.30pm. Long day - but I got an easy 3.5 miles in before I went.
That evening, predictably, I had a few beers - and the next day, for the first time ever, I ran with a hangover. And on only perhaps three and a half hours' sleep. It was great! Only three miles, but a really fab run.
Today I went out to do 40 minutes and got completely lost, so did an extra mile-plus. 53 minutes overall and at least 5.5 miles because today, folks, I was fast. Well, for me. A great run in a beautiful city, where almost no-one speaks English. Hard times when you're lost, bright red and with sweat streaming down your face.
Back to heathrow today, a six miler on for the morning. Fingers crossed! Then an overnight flight to Hong Kong, and a rest day Sunday. Running in the tropics from Monday, woo hoo!
Enough burble. Off to airport.
Oh, and remind me to tell you about how I skinned my knuckles. On a sink.