This weekend hasn't been great for training - in the sense that I haven't done any.
I woke up yesterday feeling dreadful. I managed to drag myself to the Heath for a walk, but returned home exhausted so went back to bed for a siesta.
When I woke up, it was British Summer Time.
I figure if you need to sleep, you need to sleep. With only three weeks till Marathon Day, I think preserving my finely-tuned running machine is a priority. And today I preserved it - or pickled it, even - in orange juice and Cava. I should say I was visiting a friend and haven't taken to lying in bed, boozing. Not yet, anyway. Once the marathon fear really sets in that might be an option.
(Pic: The trees are still bald, but the sky is blue.)
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