Grunt puff puff ...

... are the noises I made on my supposedly long hilly trail run at the weekend before I decided to cut it short and go home! Talk about perseverance, not.

Last week was my first full week of training so my mileage lept up and by Saturday my body was groaning under the strain. Probably too much red wine on Friday night too - well you've got to haven't you, after a week of hard work and not much sleep due to our crazy daughter's prolonged teething? That and I still get overly excited by Friday nights even though my hazy youthful days are but a hazy memory. Actually they were hazy the next day but that's besides the point.

Anyway, my breathing felt a bit laboured / asthmatic (I've had asthma since I was wee) and my legs sluggish after 1 mile of running so I called it quits at 11 miles. Pain in the bum really and disappointing performance wise but hey ho, back in the saddle this week. I'm planning to do a 20 miler this weekend and I'll remember to stay off the vino.

More importantly I've got to pass my condolences on John Kynaston for the loss of his father - sad news. And at the other end of life, my congratulations to Debbie and Marco for the birth of their son, Cairn, the first newborn to have already finished the West Highland Way Race - great stuff.

To leave this post I'd like to finish with a great a track by the Doves - There Goes the Fear. I first heard it, and the band on Richie Cunningham's UTMB slideshow and rather liked it. It has a dramatic fee that sort of suits the enormity of running a long ultra I think. And lots of other life events too.