It was. I never lie, me.
Saturday I walked the hounds, (actually, hound because Darcy was enjoying a sleepover weekend with a friend of his owner's) then, y'know, did lots of other stuff. I ended up in the gym for 90 minutes or so (for an extortionate - in my eyes - cost of £5.40 or similar); in there I did a few 1km 'sprints' on the treadmill (my grand idea of seeing how fast I can do a 10k in 1km chunks did not account for the sheer boredom of treadmill running), some core work (lots of press ups, plank, etc) and a few upper body weights (well, I did a few curls and that was it, and not even with anything heavy - one set with 12kg, one with 10kg).
Sunday, I got up as early as I could manage and went for a seven-mile run. Well, I thought it would be 5.5, but me and Neighbour felt okay, so we added a bit on the end. Turned out we did a fraction less than 7, but it was hard work and it felt like we're back on track. he had a hurty back for the last couple of weeks, and I lost momentum thanks to that fucking cold I had between Christmas and New Year.
Last night I got rather drunk, knowing I would not be doing it again until these marathons are over. Too much to do, not enough hours in the day; a magazine to launch, the magazine I currently edit to maintain, two marathons to train for - not to mention relationships to nourish and a life to live! I'm also learning to drive. It's a lot to do.
With that in mind, the first step to becoming an endurance running coach is being put on hold, because my life is just too fucking full. Too busy right now, it's going to have to hang on until the summer when I can give it the attention it deserves. I'm not doing it half-arsed, dagnabbit.
Enough of my rambling. How are you?