Finchley20 tomorrow. I was looking forward to it. Then reality hit. Now I have a stomach ache and my knees hurt.
It's four five-mile laps of somewhere in Ruislip (not Finchley, then?) To be honest, it's a bit of a trek to get there. I have to find my way to Ruislip station, then walk a mile and a half to the start line for 9.30 am. Part of me is really anxious I won't make it in time. Part of me's really anxious I will.
In order to distract myself, I have spent today working out what my split times need to be to maintain a 10.30 minute mile. I managed that last weekend when I did 12 miles in the Arctic conditions of Northampton. I see no reason (apart from the additional eight miles) why I should not carry on where I left off.
And speaking of bizarre weather, it's forecast to be a mighty 17 degrees tomorrow. Fifteen degrees more than last Sunday when I got cold-induced nerve damage. Which reminds me, I must remember to dig out my sun cream. Don't want to get my frost bite sun burnt.
(Stats: One Soho Special sandwich from Bodean's and a day spent listening to One for the ditch on Mixcloud in an attempt to relax. It has helped a bit.)