The 24 Hours

Blow by blow (or stomp by stomp) account of the challenge -

Saturday 4pm - Ben Nevis.
Stomachs lined with a mcdonalds form Fort William we set off, an hour earlier than we had previously planned, but what harm could it do we thought (you'll see what harm later) we were just so keen. I quickly came to realise that i would probably never regret a mcdonalds as much in my life as i did that one. It sat heavy in my belly, which was heavy enough on my body as we tramped onwards and upwards. it was pleasently sunny after all our worrying, and as you can imagine i was horrifically sweaty. Ed had declared himself fit to walk, but was lagging quite badly after the first hour or so. I tried to be nice, aware that we still had 23 hours ahead of us to try and stay friends for, and with my cheery encouragement we reached the top (1344 metres) after 2 hours 45 minutes. The last 300 metres were caked in cloud and were cold and uncomfortable, and i didnt actually notice the top until i was on it. We had a quick photo stop (although there was not much to see through the fog) and then set off down again. The plan said we had 5 hours for Benny N (we're cool enough for nicknames again now) and after 4 hours and 50 minutes we were 10 minutes from the bottom. Or more I was 10 minutes from the bottom. Eddie was lagging pretty badly at this point, claiming "major injury" in the form of tired legs... Dad met us near the bottom to escort us back to the car, and could hear us before he saw us, to the tune of "Ed! PLEASE keep up!" As it happened we made it back to the bottom at exactly 9pm, so i was happy. Tired but happy. Ed was not happy. Claiming everything from groin strain to irregular heartbeat, mam panic-diagnosed altitude sickness, but after about 15 minutes of his none stop complaining had to admit it was probably just tiredness from unacustomed excersise. The wounded soldier did not like that.

9pm - 2am. Drive from Ben Nevis to Sca Fell Pike.
I slept most of the way, but form Mam and Dads reports Ed complained most of it. I did wake up when the car physically left the ground over a large bump in the twisting back roads of the lakes, where Dad raced (in a safe and legal fashion!) with another three peaks driver he had befriended while waiting for us.

Sunday 2am - Sca Fell Pike.
In the small and awkward car park, Mam ans Dad dropped us off and disappeared down the country lane to turn the car around and set up camp to wait for us. As soon as they were out of sight Ed made a great show of limping and whinging, until I couldnt help but snap "Are you going to do this then or not?!" At that point little Eddie, overcome with agony, as well as being tired and grumpy (the little princess usually doesnt get up til noonas im sure youre aware from previous blogs) flipped. "Go on your bleeping own then" was something along the lines of his furious yells. He launched the map at me with all the strength his little arms could muster and stormed off to wait for the car (he was so angry he even forgot to limp... must have been an adrenaline rush or something). I stood there for a couple fo minutes probably, staring dumbstruck at his retreating back. It was pitch black (as the harm done by our setting off up Ben Nevis early was that we arrived here at 2am not 3am, so dawn was no where near as breaking as it would have been) and as i stared from the map, to my surroundings, and back to the map, i knew i didnt have a clue even what direction to walk in. Thinking it was all over (and honestly furious with Edward for ruining it) i too had to turn tail and head back to the car. Dad describes the scene he saw in the headlights on returning back to the car as "hideous" i was in the center of the beams of light (i dont know and couldnt give a monkeys where Edward was in the scene, he probably wont make it in to the movie at all after his little performance) face screwed up like a monster, wailing. he opened the car door to a "Daaaaaaaaaaaaad! wahhh!" The sullen look on Edwards face must have said it all, and grasping that Eddie wouldnt do the walk, and for safety (as well as i dont mind admitting map-resding-in-the-dark-competancy) reasons i couldnt do the walk alone, was the moment my father became my hero. Despite being written off the challenge with weak knees, despite having not done any training since his write off in April, despite not having his knee braces or trekking poles with him, despite the fact that he is 52 you know, he strapped on Eds 3 sizes too big walking boots, and did Sca Fell Pike with me. Heroic music should have played, as we gave Edward withering looks and strode off into the night, victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. However, following my birthday (see the blog) you must still remember that this is me and Dad we're talking about here, and in the darkness, as is our way on Sca Fell, of course, we missed the path. My awe was only heightened though as we scaled the bare mountain side, Dads super human effort getting us to the top (978metres) on time, and as the sun rose, we could only laugh at the blinding obviousness of the path we managed not to spot. Our journey down, on the newly discovered path, was flawless and even dads knees held up, getting us down again by 6am, perfect timing on the 4 hours allocated by the plan, and in actual fact even quicker than that, allowing time for Edwards histrionics. I have never been more impressed or proud of my Dad, who undoubtedly saved the challenge there.

6am - 10.15am. Drive from Sca Fell Pike to Snowdon.
As Dad collapsed mam took the wheel to get us to Wales for the last leg of the challenge, with daylight not being an issue i'd be fine to tackle Snowdon alone. Edward was sheepish, as well he should be, and me and dad, well we were plain knackered.

10.15am - Snowdon.
I was dropped off at the car park and the others drove off, making their way to the Snowdon Mountain railway base station, where they would get the train up to meet me at the top, and off i went. As i scrambled over rocks on the initial incline i honestly wondered whether i could do it, as i was overtaken by a group of burly welsh men i was galvanised to go on, and picked up the pace. It was then that Mam decided to call me to chat about the train (i know, time and a place mother) and i almost lost sight of my galloping welsh inspirations (i treated them as the greyhound at the dogs track treats the hare, except i merely wanted to keep up with them, not eat them) I got Mam off the phone and leaped over a style to follow them. I noticed that i was basically the only female on the mountain at this point, and my burly welsh hares were far from unique in this setting. After following them doggedly up a steep route for half an hour or so i plucked up the breath to ask them if they thought we were anywhere near half way there (as according to the plan i should be at the top in just over 2 hours) "Well youre nearly at the top of the knife edge" came the reply, my puzzled face must have triggered the further response "you do want to do the knife edge and then Snowdon dont you?" With a sick feeling in my stomach i whimpered "This IS Snowdon isnt it?" Of course, left to my own devices i had climed half the wrong mountain. Luckily this 'Knife Edge" was a pre summit to the actual Snowdon summit, (an extereme one, which explained all the burly locals) so i had merely to slither a little way back down bare grassy mountain side and i'd be back on the right path, the helpful welsh fellas pointed it out to me, God bless them. the slithering was much easier said than done, and i can report now that i am probably one of not may people who can say that they have slid down a bank of Mount Snowdon on their backside. Iwas back on the right path, and still on time despite my little excursion, but my legs were weary. the muscles that allow a person to put one leg in front of the other seemed to have had enough, just at the last scramble appeared up ahead. It was nigh on vertical, with wide zig zags in the path making it walkable. screw this, i thought, and just about flung myself onto all fours to physically clamber up the last push. Making it to the top (1085metres) after 2 and a half hours, i looked around triuphmant, and promptly burst into tears. A kindly tourist came and gave me a piece of chocolate and i pulled myself together. My knee was now roughly the size of a football and i literally could not put one more foot in front of the other. At this point a lovely man working as a guide mentioned that a lot of people classed getting to the top of each peak as the challenge, so if he was me he would stop the clock there. So there you have it, i cant lie, i got the train back down Snowdon (leaving dad to step in again and give me his seat and walk down, although taking the much gentler route that i was not aware of) and have firmly planted myself in the school of thought that says getting to the top is the main thing, not down again, and clocking in at 20 hours 35 minutes.

The Big Day

It's today! Although most of the action will technically take place tomorrow, with only Ben Nevis being done tonight, Sca Fell in the early hours of tomorrow morning and Snowdon later in the day - all in 24 hours though (i hope) We're setting off to Scotland soon (not sure how soon as Eddie is still in bed...) and ive had a hunk of apple strudel ans ice cream for breakfast, so looks like we're as ready as we'll ever be, cue the A-Team music as we stride out...

Day 202 (IT'S TOMORROW)

Today is Friday the 13th, notably an unlucky day if youre supersticious, but it may well be the best Friday the 13th ive ever had. The weather has cleared up, Grandma and i won £15 at the bingo (which all the bingo ladies agreed should be donated, see www.justgiving.com/onestompatatime) and me and Ed managed to get proper little route cards done for each mountain (luckily he can read maps...) I didnt want to risk pulling a muscle on this traditionally unlucky date, and so have not done a walk today. In fact the next time I walk will be the beginning of the ascent of Ben Nevis (im all formal and respectful of it again now that the challenge is ominously close) tomorrow. We will be beginning at 5pm, hoping to be up and down Ben Nevis by 10pm, the trusting Mam and Dads driving will be starting up Sca Fell Pike by 4am Sunday morning, to be back down and in the hands of the parents behind the wheel by 8am, getting to Wales to start Snowdon by 1pm, to compleet by 5pm. 24 very full hours ahead of us. I'm now going to stuff my face with pasta, as im sure im going to need every carb i can get! Wish us luck, and if you havent heard anything by Monday morning i might not have made it... or am just to stiff to hobble from my bed to the computer to type anything, and thankyou everyone who has read this, i hope youve had as much fun (or in fact considerably more fun at some points) reading about this as i have had doing it. And to everyone who has donated, I love you.

Day 201 (2 days to go)

The weather perked up! I havent checked on Big B yet (Ben Nevis, am i getting too pally?) but the sun is certainly shining here! I was woken by it at 5.30am, which i was almost glad about since at least it wasnt raining, and i joyfully scrambled up Roseberry Topping (in 15 minutes) and was so in the zone i could have turned around and taken on the big 3 there and then. It was muddy, and im sure the big 3 are still uncomfortable today (if it has indeed stopped raining in Scotland and Wales too, that is three countries the weather would have to stay constant accross, big ask i know) but by Saturday it should be fine as long as the sun stays out like this... crossing EVERYTHING for that.

Days 197, 198 and 199 (and 200)

Well I was right (but then again aren't I always) the hard work began. I have swum (in the pool and practically swum in puddles after some questionable weather) I have run (with the children, after the children, away from the children...) I have climbed, I have skipped, I have jumped, I have danced. The 3 Peaks may well be nothing compared to a weekend with 3 under 8s (and its not even as though I was in charge of them!) Today then I'm not home yet, but on the home straight with training, so decided to kick start the last few days with a super energetic run (I know, who am I and what have I done with Rosie) this is mostly because I figure if I do 4 miles at a run its the equivalent of 8 miles at a walk, and not getting lost over a 4 mile stretch is hard enough over foreign terrain - my plan for the unfamiliar mountains is aim upwards, so hopefully there won't be a problem there. You'll be pleased to know that I did it, it would seem that boot-camp Butlins has had no adverse effects, and was actually pretty fun (in its own way)

Sorry this post became delayed amongst the balckberry/email/technophobia... doesnt make me worried about relying on my parents to drive me between mountains when they cant cut paste and upload at all or anything... anyway today seems to be the bleakest of them all, even worse than the day the dog tripped me over, even worse than the day the dog pulled me over (struggling to think of days that were bad that dont involve that blasted dog somehow) as even though i have huffed, puffed, sweated gallons and cursed dad for ever having this idea, ive come to strangely enjoy it, which is where the problem may lie. I have no qualms about going it alone on the mounatins, after weaklings Dad and in turn Ed have had to drop out, and im amazed and chuffed to have raised £285 so far (keep going everyone, the page is www.justgiving.com/onestompatatime thankyou) however, having overcome my love of chocolate and hatred of excersise that had been standing in my way before (in the movie this may be the montage moment...) there is one thing even i cannot control. The weather. Today torrential rain has prevented me from leaving the house, and yesterday Ben Nevis was declared "shut". I am three days away from the Big Day and strangely have never been more up for it than i am now, even on the first day when i was basically blinded by my own optimism. However, i have devised a plan; Ben Nevis, which was going to be my starting point, is the only peak of the three on privately owned land, therefore is the only one i can be physically prevented from having a crack at. Therefore on Saturday we will consult the weather, and if it looks like Scotland is not on we'll change tack and nip to Wales instead to start with Snowdon, in the hopes that the weather will clear by the time we reach Ben (i feel i can drop the "Nevis" like we're pals) and worst case scenario at least i'll have done 2 out of 3. Fingers crossed for the sun coming out though...

Day 196

This morning Martys mam, auntie and I acted quickly. After making the daddies get up with the boys (Marty's 2 young cousins are also here at Butlins) first thing, we sent them off swimming while we walked to the market. It was only 4 miles, and not at speed, and there was a shopping break in the middle, but technically I am on my holidays, and I get the feeling the daddies won't put up with us disappearing and enjoying ourselves in a child free manner for too long, so the hard excersise is probably about to begin...

P.S thankyou to Mam and Dad, who through the miracles of technology are receiving these posts via email from my blackberry to upload from the computer (as technology does not seem miraculous enough to allow me to post it straight from blackberry without a middle man, or maybe that's just my flimsy grasp of it)

Days 194 and 195

Yesterday i was embroiled in a random trip to Wales (such is the spontaneous nature of student life) so I took a rest day. I know this is not the time to take my eye off the ball but this could not be helped, and I think I can make it on a skipped day, although these may  be famous last words.
Today I am at Skengess Butlins with Marty and his family. We travelled there today so I had time for a proper walk in Kings Lynn today, and fully expect to make a spectacle of myself around the Butlins site tomorrow and Sunday, so look forward to that!
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone

Day 193

London exhausts me, not the walking, which in trainers on pavement was a treat compared to even the usual footpath at home. I woke up at 5am, despite having made no real plans until 2pm which allowed me the luxury of a lie in, well my body just would not have it, its like it wants to excersise or something (have been taken over by an alien body? very good question) so the getting up was fine, better than wanted even, and the walk was fine, 2 laps round my 4 mile circuit was basically a breeze today. It was afterwards where difficulties arose. I got back to the house 1 hour 40 minutes later (even my time was good if do say so myself) and instead of getting into the shower then getting on with the rest of my day flopped into bed and slept sweatily for another hour. Think have entered the walking twilight zone...

Day 192

Yesterday was the start of my most difficult efforts; a night out without alcohol. There was still dancing (in heels) which must have done me some good, and i lieft at midnight like a modern day Cinderella, leaving behind a walking boot rather than a glass slipper...
This morning proved last night a success, as i sprung up fresh as a dais at 6am, and looked more attractive than ever before for a walk, as out of laziness rather than drunkeness last night i awoke today still with a full face of makeup on. That was soon sweated off mind you as i battled through my mixed terrain route again, feeling like a jungle explorer, and coming home just as damp as yesterday, as the grass seemed to have resisted the long term effects of my vigorous stamping yesterday. Im driving to London today to move out of my student house over the next few days, so stay tuned for my last burst of stomp power in the East end.

Day 191

So apparently my blog has decided to say the right day again, making me look an utter fool. For the record i have not missed a day, the computer has, infernal thing.
Today i started on a new path. We live near the Hurworth Burn resevoir and there is a footpath around it. After my jaunts up Roseberry Topping over the weekend, i realised that i need to work on more mixed terrain than just 8 miles in a straight line on a footpath as i have been in this last push before the big one. This circular route then is around 3 to 3 and a half miles a lap, but across fields and with little hills as well as some footpath. I did 2 laps so covered maybe 7 miles (but i am taking Grandma to the supermarket today, where her erratic shopping style means we sometimes cover a couple of miles around the shop floor, so im not worried about losing the 8th mile) I quickly discovered that im not desperately keen on mixed terrain, especially when it has obviously rained all night and the grass on the untouched path is as high as me and dripping wet. The second lap was easier as long as i walked in the footsteps i had made the first time round, so that the grass was pre-trampled. I did the 6 to 7 miles in an hour and a half, and becasue i set off at 6.45 didnt have to take the dog, and i ended up home not too hot, as the rain from the grass (as well as my copious sweating of course) left my legs damp and freezing. Gotta love the British weather.

Day 190

I dont know what ive done, but my blog is telling me its Saturday today. It isnt. Its most definitely Sunday, lord knows what ive done. I hate technology.
That aside, I hit Roseberry topping again this morning, to emulate (albeit in miniature form) the sort of mountain-break-mountain formation i'll be involved in this time in 2 weeks. It was a later start today as i was at a 21st yesterday which involved (of course) getting into double figures on glasses of champagne. Owing to this i didnt get to Roseberry until 6.55, and this time it took 20 minutes not 15, i blame the champagne whole heartedly, but how could i ever stay mad at champage. I believe the real challenge is about to start for me though, as for this final 2 weeks im going to try and keep my drinking to a minimum, like zero drinking if possible (no-ones holding their breaths on that one though) There was also a little old man at the top when i got there today, he could well have been the one who put Dad to shame all those weks ago when he overtook him on the way up. We shared a haughty "morning" and smugly surveyed all those below us still sleeping, for we are mighty mountain climbers and they were just snoozing away... i can more than see why we were in the minority at 7.15 on a Sunday morning mind.

Days 188 and 189

Squeezed in another quick 4 miler yesterday (which i was sure i already blogged about, apparently not, weird...) but this morning is the more important thing. Today would have been Granddads 81st birthday, its also 2 weeks today for the Big Day. Bearing both these facts in mind i seized the day, waking up at 5am as the sun was thinking about getting his hat on and coming out to play, and drove to Roseberry Topping for some much needed hill work. Without Dad stopping for rests at every passing large rock i made it to the top in 15 minutes, my fastest time yet, which is encouraging since in approximately this time in 2 weeks i'll be doing the equivalent of a billion times that in the form of Ben Nevis, Sca Fell and Snowdon. Due to the early hours my technical support team (Mam and Dad) were still in bed so i had to drive myself (one simply cannot get good staff these days) a for those who read this for the comedy im sorry to get serious on you but as i surveyed the scene from the top, noting how a sunrise can make even the ugliest region in the country look almost attractive (Teesside has been officially voted the worst place in the country to live, more than once, so its official) i did shed a birthday tear for Granddad. Even my body seemed to grasp the seriousness of the situation, as i didnt even seem to sweat as much as normal!

Day 187

The results finally appeared at just about 5pm (i got a 2.1 though so worth the wait) and my walk seemed like a blur in the past in comparison to this comoputer screen, which i now know so well.
Today was another early one, and another short one im afraid, only a 4 miler again as we're ading to the traditional busy hairdressers-pies-bingo Friday fro Grandma by throwing in a reporter and photographer, thats right, todays exciting news is that yours truly and the family are coming to the pages of a Hartlepool Mail near you (well only really near you if you live in Hartlepool, if not youre unlikely to see it im sorry to say) So i blasted the 4 miles today, the weathers finally perked up and it was cool but sunny, absolutely perfect. The dog was stil asleep so i can honestly say i almost enjoyed myself, 4 hours 55 minutes, im on fire.

Day 186

Today is a big day, not so much for walking but in the rest of my life; my exam results and ultimate degree classification will be released online today (or tomorrow, or next week, such is university admin...) they werent there at 12.10am when i woke up in a panic about them, nor where they there at 5.50am when i awoke ofr the same reason. I couldnt get abck to sleep and they still werent there at 5.55am, 6.00am, or 6.05am so i decided i may as well get a walk done, working undet the assumption that if the results people didnt have the results up online now then surely they wouldnt until 9 oclock... i left the house at 10 past 6, Mam and Dad still in bed so i didnt have to take the dog, it was managing not to rain, there were no cyclists around, and dog free i shoud have been happy, but by 6.15 i was twitching, getting more anxious with every step i took away from my computer, maybe the results people got up and started uploading at 6? or half past? In the end i couldnt bear it and turned round early, fleeing back to the screen after 4 miles in 50 minutes (which is quick for me, maybe i should ask them to hold my results at the top of Snowdon) The results werent there at 7 when i returned, or 7.15 when i got out of the shower, ita allmost half past now though, time to check again...

Day 185

Today im afraid the only walking i did was a lap of Morrisons for Grandma. Followed 10 minutes later by a desperate sprint through the car park after i drove al the way back to Grandmas before realising that id left the shopping in the trolley in the shop and had to go back for it... its been one of those days...

Days 181, 182, 183 and 184

Today im lucky to be alive. But we'll get to that.
I'll catch you up from Saturday, where after my early morning efforts Friday i didnt get started until the much more civilised time of 2pm, knowing i wouldnt get a walk done on Sunday (eddie and i went with some friends to see red hot chilli peppers Sunday afternoon, which everyone knows requires all day of drinking beforehand, no time for walkng there) i had aimed to thrash out a 10 miler, hoping the 2 miles extra effort today would cancel out the 8 miles lost effort the next day (thats womans maths for you) However there was an obstacle that prevented me from walking a new distance, on an extended route that no Allison had walked before; a brown furry obstacle. Thats right, Mam made me take the dog. There was no way the dog would walk 10 miles, he gets whiney at 6 miles, and makes me want to let him off his lead, throw a stick as far as i can then hide while he goes after it so that i can go home and pretend i lost him after 4. Who am i kidding he makes me wish i really did lose him after 2. Make that 1. He gets under my feet, he lurches at passing walkers (in a friendly way, but if i didnt know our large toothy mutt and he lurched at me i wouldnt know that) and after a distance that suits him he becomes slow and lazy. I dont mind admitting, the dog holds me back. But Mam wouldnt hear a word against him, so i passed a grumpy 8 miles in a moderately successful time considering the burden i dragged with me.
Sunday was a walk free day, although such is the nature of a rock concert that there was a certain amount of leaping around involved, which is excersise i suppose, although it was probably offest by the alcohol consumed, which had a knock-on effect on yesterday, where i managed a mere 4 miler after a day of napping between bouts offeeling sorry for myself, and even that made me feel like i wouldnt survive the walk home.
That wasnt the source of my "lucky to be alive" though. That was today. After a cigarette related emergency this morning (grandma had run out and need more NOW before she strangled a passing paper boy or post man) i didnt set off til after lunch. It had been a clear sunny day and id been looking forward to my walk. I set off (dog free as Mam was at work) and marched purposefully for about three quaters of a mile, then it began to rain. I ignored it and made it approximately a mile and a half before thunder rolled and the heavens really opened. "Nature!" I wailed into the sky, "Its like you dont want me to succeed!" Nature responded by increasing the rainfall. Grumpily i turned to stomp home, getting angrier and wetter and wetter and angrier, as i came in sight of home the rain stopped. It flipping well flaming well oh-my-godding well stopped. Furios now i spun round on my heel to set out again, and add 5 miles to this 3 mile effort when i was struck down (this is the part i was lucky to survive) I got a cramp. Not just any cramp though, a cramp the likes of which you have never seen, a cramp of such epic proportions it wouls have been less painful to amputate the offending leg there and then. I collapsed to the ground in agony. In the move Scarlett would swoon delicately into the grass, where her Orlando Bloom jogger would appear and catch her and it would all be very romantic, in reality though i flailed around like a baby elephant in quicksand shreiking like a banshee on ecstasy until the pain passed. Following which i limped home, clocking a time of 3 miles in 40 minutes, or 3 miles in 48 minutes if you include cramp-ridden time, which im hoping not to.

Days 179 and 180

Torrential rain stopped play at a 4 miler yesterday, with the dog dripping a dawdling, i dragged us home disgruntled. This morning however i woke up, saw that the sun was up, thought i may as well get up and get on with it then, leaped athletically out of bed (as im sure you can imagine), checked my phone, and discovered that it was only 5am. I laughed at myself and leaped back into bed (with as much grace and elegance as i could muster) and tried to get back to sleep. I couldnt. My subconcious obviously wants this more than i realise as i found myself fully dressed and outside at 5.15am (my subconcious is obviously much nicer than i am too as it seemed to want the dratted dog involved too) waggling the dogs lead around trying to entice him to come with me. Brilliant guard dog that he is he didnt stir from sleep, so I went without him. I actually forgot the atrocity of the time and got to quite enjoying my early morning efforts, there was fresh dew on the grass (which it turns out looks pretty but can make one very damp) there were only a few birds up and about so the tweeting was tuneful and not a racket (dont you just hate it when there are too many birds singing? what an awful life i lead i know) and most importantly i had the walkway to myself. I felt like the queen of the castle (although i looked more like the festering peasent of the footpath in my sweaty state) as i hit every mile marker ahead of time, and was looking strong (by which of course i mean extra sweaty) coming into the home straight, the last mile. Now at this point its 7am, which apparently is a more socially acceptable time to be excersising, as i saw not one but 2 cyclists. The first was inoffensive, but the second not only trilled his bell at me even though i had already moved over, but deliberately (as far as i could tell) verred towards me at the moment of passing me to spray me with the puddle water thah he was passing through. And they wonder why people hate them. Cyclists aside though i was pretty pleased with myself when i clocked in back at home after 1 hour 52 minutes, taking Mam by surprise as she was jsut getting up. Dad has registered no opinion as he is still asleep, and while Ed is home for the weekend there wont be a sighting of him until at least noon. With his fractured elbow though he's looking less and less likely to take part anyway.

Day 178

The just giving page is finally on the go!
check out https://www.justgiving.com/onestompatatime
Thankyou

Days 175, 176 and 177

Sunday was uncomfortable, it was Dads first fathers day without his dad, and the weather was sticky and uncomfortable for walking. The dog came with me this time, and we were boh grumpy and sweaty 8 miles later. This week is shaping up to be a manic one, so Ive only had time to slip a couple of cheeky 4 milers in today and yesterday, one with the dog (hell) and one without (blissful) Im rushing off again now, but my times have remained on target and im hoping to get an 8 miler in tomorrow, with ot without the dog is yet to be confirmed, depending on whether mam makes me take him or not.

Day 174

After a hard day of shopping and the cinema (its a rough life) i did something i dont usually do and took myself on an afternoon walk. I set off at 5pm, with the intention of returning home 8 miles later by 7pm., cant think of a more rock and roll saturday night... Still recovering from Amsterdam i didnt torture myself by taking the dog, and he didnt seem too upset, possibly remembering the distance from last time. I bossed the timings (if i do say so myself) and returned home with 5 minutes to spare. The last 2 miles were sped up probably in my rush to get home as the heavens opened on me. When i got home i looked like a rat who had been drowned, picked up and towelled off badly and drowned again. Disturbingly the rain didnt make me look that much more dishevelled than my usual sweat.
In other news eddie came off his scooter in the inclement weather and is now sporting a broken elbow, this makes things dubious for him owing to the fact that we had also today confirmed the Big Day - Saturday 14th of July, 4 weeks from today. With dad officially switched to technical support it looks like i could b going it alone.

Days 171, 172 and 173

On Wedneday we spent the day in Newcastle to board the ferry to Amsterdam at 5pm. There was some waing involved, and much lugging of suitcases if that counts for anything, but no official walk. Yesterday, hung over from the "party ferry" we took the attitude of "when in Rome" (or this case Amsterdam) and strolled around (not knowing where to put our faces when in the the red light district let me tell you!) and tried the space cakes, after that I could have walked a hundred miles and not known about it if you know what I mean... Today then we got back, hungover from anotyer night on the party ferry, after indulging in another must of Amserdam, absinthe. Im running around like a headless chicken trying to get showered and sober in time to take Grandma to the bingo from 2 til 4, so I feel there isnt a walk of any notable distnce on the cards today here im afraid...

Days 169 and 170

Yesterday I'm afraid that i succumbed again to daytime drinking, and the concept of walking was sadly lost to me... im thinking of re-naming this blog an "alcoholics adventures in excersise" but im not sure that gives the right message.
Today there was walking, and although the distance was smaller than 8 miles, the achievement was greater - i walked with Grandma all the way from her house to the florists, via the butchers and newsagents, the distance in its entirity probably wasnt more than a mile, but it may as well have been a hundred miles for Grandma, who was in her own words "pooped" we later did a lap of asda too, where she rewarded herself with a bottle of martini (so you can see where i get many things from)
Tomorrow im going to Amsterdam (on another mini alcoholics adventure i suppose) until Friday, so depending on my state on return i might get a walk done then, and im sure technically speaking i'll be doing walking of some sort while im out and about, the technical part being if youre counting drunken staggers that i cant fully recall...

Days 165, 166, 167 and 168

So after I had clearly stated that end of uni shenanigans were almost over, i accidently got so drunk Wednesday night that I could not move from my bed of pain (the sofa) all Thursday. Long Island Ice Tea was this time the culprit, and long time was my hangover. Im getting too old for all this. I limped home battered and bruised and clutching a McDonalds on Saturday. Mam and Dad have added one of those jazzy memory foam mattresses to my bed, and it would be rude not to spend some time with it while I recover my strength I reasoned. Today though I was full of focus, and got up at 8.30am (that new bed is so hard to say goodbye to, mostly because I had sunk so far into it I was unsure whether I would be able to physically get out of it without assistance) Mam insisted I take the dog, so with much whining - from me - and even some growling - again from me - I set off. British weather being what it has lately the walkway was like a river in some places, but I waded on. My feet were wet, and the weather was hot and damp, I felt like I was hiking through the Amazon rainforest, but I stomped on. Te dog pushed me over in his excitement to try and jump on a cyclist, but I restrained him, got up (cursed him) and carried on. By the end of the 8 miles my feet were no wetter than the rest of me such was my signature sweating today, but I did it, 8 miles in 2 hours. Brian and Steve would be proud, and in the movie Scarlett would look much more jaunty than me im sure, but I did it, even with that infernal dog.

Days 162, 163 and 164

So after The Weather on Sunday our garden party quickly became a living room party, with enough bunting and sandwiches to put a village hall to shame (i made a hundred sanwiches, and didnt even get one! there were about as many red white and blue cupcakes though and i had my fair share of them...) champagne pimms and later beer pong continued from noon to the small hours of monday morning. So you guessed it i didnt get round to a walk, however i did clear up the bomb sight that was our living room, which was no mean feat and took about as much energy as a proper walk let me tell you. Yesterday i was at Martys, and bearing in mind past failures at trying to include him i conceeded that i too would be enjoying the full exyent of the double bank holiday, however i did drag him on a couple of laps of the shops of cambridge which must count for something. This morning im back in London (not for long though, as with uni over and most of the end of uni shenaningans that come with it too, im returning home at the weekend) Exams are over, my hangovers over, and even the weathers sorted itself out into some semblance of what one would expect from an English June - cold and grey (also "one" check me out, ive spent too much time focussing on the Queen this jubilee weekend clearly) Out of excuses I used my last ounce of laziness to allow myself only a 6 miler today, reasonong that i can build myself up again to be ready for the 8 milers again when i get home, who knows Dad and Ed might even join in! But not the dog if I can help it. Im pleased to report that my times havent been too badly affected, and I completed 6 miles in 1 hour 20 without major incident, which is something of a rareity for me.

Day 158, 159, 160 and 161

Thursdays exam went ok i think, and whether it did or not having had no time for a walk before it and heading straight to the pub after it unti i had to be taken home to bed - not late enough to be socially considered cool, but my degree is over! so i couldnt give a monkeys. Friday the effects of thursday physically prevented me from walking, and then Marty arrived Friday night so yesterday while there were no timed walks we did stroll along the south bank and then walk from waterloo to kings cross, where i sent him on his way home again. I have google-mapped the distance and found it to be about 3 miles, so better than nothing. There were cocktails on the cards last night too, but i was determined not to be hungover, both for my walk and for all the drinking i plan to do this afternoon at our garden party - dont judge, its the end of my degree, my last weekend as a proper student, if nows not the time to drink like one when is - so this morning i was displeased and dismayed to see rain. I know what youre thinking, is there no pleasing this whiney ass wimp, and im aware that i have been protesting the hot weather just about since it started, but i did not mean for it to make such a dramatic u-turn. However, in the face - which is where a lot of it did hit me - of the rain, and despite my best efforts last night my mild hangover i set off. For those who dont know, and i was certainly one of you until very recently, power walking with a hood up is like power walking in an oven. I quickly realised as a car splashed puddle water on me that this wasnt going to happen. Far from my exams-are-over-back-to-the-8-milers, i was more im-hung-over-and-should-be-impressed-im-out-of-the-house-at-all, and switched route to a 2 miler via canary wharf, so plus side to the day thus far, i did see the boats moored on the river setting off to the start point of the jubilee parade going on today. Well done Queen for your 60 years, and well done me for my 2 miles, as i feel similar efforts have gone into both endevours, as im pretty sure the Queen probably hasnt tried to be head of state the morning after a night of Alabama Slammers.

Day 157

Got my walk done, 45 minutes, nothing too dramatic happened, now that my horrendous sweating has become accepted as part of a horrible normality. When i returned home however it was 8.10am, normally this owuld be no problem, as my housemates rarely surface before 10am so i can happily hop into my cold shower and recover, allowing my face to cool to the colour of that of a normal persons by the time they awake. Today we all have an exam though (family law - 2.30 - 6pm just by the by) so nervous anticipation, and last minute panic cramming had woken everyone earlier than normal. I dont mind traumatising my housemates with my appearance, but i do mind waiting for the shower. Luckily our last exam is tomorrow morning, and for the next few days the state of my walks is in jeapordy i dont mind warning you now, as the weekend hold the triple celebration of end of exams, the end of university altogether (for me and kiki, harriet has another year) and the queens jubilee (any excuse for a pimms) so i'll see you when i see you, wish me luck!

Day 156

I decided to stop myself at the stop of the slippery slope (probably slippery from all my swaeat) of passing off a toddle to the corner shop as a peoper walk, as i coud easily have slipped into that ice lolly fuelled routine, and got back on with it today. 7.40am i left the house, and lo and behold it is still too hot. England NEVER has good weather, why now?! Anyway my legs must know me too well as they had gotten themsleves very comfortable very quickly in the idea of not moving much further than to the shop, and began to twinge almost as soon as i passed it and they realised what was going on. I forced them on anyway, and in one of the most uncomfortable walks to date (the heat, my legs, commuters EVERYWHERE) i made it round in my usual time at least. I'd like to say that this has taught me not to have cheeky days off, but i think ive said that before...

Day 155

Weather persists, all i managed was a walk to the shop for an ice lolly today...

Day 154

Right. Thats it. Things are getting out of hand. Can no-one do something about this weather, please! Ive tried my best to be reaosnable about it all, but i am far to sweaty for this to continue. Im frightening small children, this is no good for anyone really. 4 miles, 45 minutes, ive still got it, but its not easy. Knowing my luck my Orlando Bloom jogger is probably just around the corner, and i dont want to see him under these conditions! Oh woe is me for it is sunny for once in England!

Day 153

Today is hotter than yesterday already, im sure of it. And im not happy about it. I havent been sleeping well (in comparison to my normal routine of head hits the pillow (usually at the rock n roll time of 10ish truth be told, then 8 or 9 hours later i spring up again fresh as a daisy) in the heat, and my usually sunny disposition is starting to be effected... today i could feel my pace getting slower and slower, and although i could feel the effort of making my feet stomp stomp stomp slap slap slapping on the pavement i couldnt seem to propel my little lump of a body any quicker, i liken myself to a slug today, as i figured out that it must be all my sweat (yes even on the bottoms of my feet, theres your sexy thought for the day sorted) causing me to stick to the ground. Cursing Brian and Steve who I can only assume to be sweat free on their smug little adventures on the mountains I slithered home, to be pleasently surprised to find that my efforts had kept me up to speed with my usual time, in your faces Brian and Steve!

Day 152

I got up earlier today, hoping to beat the heat... no chance, even setting off at 7.45am did me no good, it just meant that i was seen by more horrified commuters. And summer has thrown another stinger at me. Wasps. The most vile of all things, i hate hate hate wasps, and they hate me too. Today for example, after implementing my public good policy and only doing one four mile lap of the Isle of  Dogs (45 minutes, even this weather cant hold me down) I was on the path back towards the house when i heard the terrible buzzing, time slowed down as i saw the horrendous creature out of the corner of my eye, bearing down on me like an evil yellow (i cant think of anything horrible enough to compare it to) and i had to summon up my very last reserves of energy to scream like the girl i am and leg it to the door. I must be the only person saying this, but as if this weather wasnt bad enough things like this have to start happening! And if the wasps are already in london i dread to think what it'll be like when i go home to the countryside...

Day 151

So im back into the swing of things, the sweaty sweaty swing of things, and was up and out by 8, trying to beat the heat. It was impossible though, and clammy is the word i would use to describe the conditions out there on the mean streets of east london. I was redder than the image that word conjours though i feel, more of a boied clam (or a boiled anything for that matter) I have decided that in these conditions, for the good of society, and to save myself from death by sweat reated dehydration, im going to restrict myself back to 4 milers, at least until my exams are over, then i'll have run out of excuses so may just have to deal with the weather (apologies in advance to those who may have to view this)

Days 146, 147, 148, 149 and 150

So Saturday was Grandmas birthday lunch, followed for me by a friends birthday party that night, as can be predicted, when one starts drinking at noon saturday and doesnt stop til 2am sunday, both days were a walking write off, Monday I managed to raise myself (practically from the dead) and managed to stagger round the 8 miles in 2 hours (dogless, with mam and dad both at work there was no-one to make me take him) and repeated the sucess yesterday. Today I arrived back in London, one housemate not home yet from the night before, and the other one up early to get a mcdonalds breakfast. The recent heat wave meant that, knowing as you all know by now how sweaty I am, walking 8 miles, at 9am, around the streets of London was going to be uncomfortable for everyone. I managed 4 miles though without horrifying too many people with my visage, before slopping back to the house in a puddle of my own revolting juices afte just one lap of the Isle. I fortified myself with the idea that I had to cut my walk short to revise (last two exams 30th and 31st) and can only hope (and im probably the only person doing so) that the weather doesnt stay so lovely, either that or im going to have to start walking by night for everyones benefit.

Days 142, 143, 144 and 145

So Tuesday the exam went ok (i think) but as predicted there was no walk, Wednesday was grandmas big 80th birthday, so no time for one there between presents and lunches and whatnot. Thursday I DID manage to get one in, a quick 8 miler (uneventful, no dog) and today was the usual Friday madness, so not much to report im afraid.

Day 141

My doomsday predictions were all true, my legs hurt even more, and its raining, and my exam is tomorrow (I am NOT freaking out...) so no walk today im afraid...

Day 140

After yesterday i recalled something my very wise self told us all on only the second or third day of this walking malarky; excersise is BAD. I have recalled this following yesterdays running escapade, which lead to severe detraction from todays performance. I limped and hobbled but managed to keep my time secure round the first 4 mile lap, but with stabbing pains crippling me, I couldnt torture myself anymore and skulked home after 45 minutes. I can only hope I'll be ok to get back on track for tomorrow, but while running the risk of sounding like as big a baby as Dad, with mortal wounds like this I really cant promise anything.

Day 139

I dont know about where you are but wherever i am typically as soon as i have to stay inside to do something (in this case exam revision) the weather pulls out all the stops to make it a perfect day to be outside. By 12.30 though I was half way through the assigned revision for the day and half way to losing my mind so I took a walk break. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and of course all this lovely heat went straight to my sweaty little face... I stomped around looking like i was about to blow a house down with my huffing and puffing, and got the first lap done ok. Or so i thought. I glanced down at my phone and somehow my brain computed the numbers to put me half an hour behind schedule ( wasnt in fact, well done eyes) I panicked, and quickened my pace, faster and faster i went until i could no longer control myself and feeling as mad as a march hare (you know by now im slow enough for the effects of march madness to take til may to reach me so this is a perfectly reasonable comparison) i broke into a run! I kept this up for about a mile where i reached the verge of collapse and slowed back to a wobbly walk. It was then i looked again at my phone and realised my mistake. I didnt alter my average speed much though as during the following recovery walk i could have been overtaken by a three legged tortoise. I did make it home in 1 hour 40 minutes though, a time never to be repeated as long as i learn to tell time properly.

Day 138

Just a quick one to say i did my exam (it went as well as it could i suppose) and to report that ive rushed home to revise for the next one (which is on tuesday, rock and roll revision weekend on the cards for me) so i dont have time for a walk today, hopefully i'll get one done tomorrow when the initail panic of knowing nothing for tuesday has passed...
In other news theres been no walking word from Dad or Ed, who I can only assume have ground to a halt without me to inspire them, but stay tuned for me whipping them back into shape later next week.

Days 136 and 137

Yesterday in my efforts to procrastinate i thought id add another blonde hair dye to my already blonde hair, telling myself i was just lightening it up for summer... because this is me we're talking about instead of a sunny yellow like the lady on the box i got, well, grey. All hopes of a walk were abandonned as i could barely bring ,myself to leave the house, and after phone consultations with my mother and best friend Sharon, and a real life consultation with flatmate Harriet (deviser of my 4 mile London walk circuit) I skulked to Asda (its probably less than a mile round trip but thats all Ive got for the day) and bought a nice dark brown.
I only tell you all this because well honestly i need to justify not walking, i know you love to hear about my trials and tribulations, and not to trivialise the nature of this blog but hello, my hair was grey! Not really on. Anyway this morening with exam fear setting in (first one tomorrow eek) I woke up at 5.48am. With no chance of getting back to sleep i thought i may as well get up and crack on. I took my brunette self by surprise when passing a mirror and may have yelped, but made it out of the house at the ungodly hour without waking the flatmates. Hoping that my sleek new hair would make me faster as well as smarter (because all blondes are idiots arent they, i can say these things now mwahahaha) I dashed off out the door. My friend lollipop man wasnt even out and about yet, and sadly i did not see drunk/hobo guy again either. I dids see the sun rise though, and canary wharf looks just lovely in pink. But as i let the cat out on my return (it was too early for him when i went out) 1 hour 50 minutes later, and flopped down on the sofa to type this i didnt feel as exhilerated and fired up to work as i thought i would, in fact im about ready for a nap. But as its only 8am i think ive got time for one!

Days 133, 134 and 135

Sunday was an official rest day spent in Kings Lynn, and yesterday in the spirit of the bank holiday we headed to Thorpe Park, where the weather had put off enough paople to make it pleasently quiet, and we ran (yes I ran!) between roller coasters getting on them with less than 5 minutes queue in most places. I know I cant count it as a walk but we were there 7 hours and my legs did ache on the way hom, so maybe I can kind of count it?
Today Im back in London for last minute revision for exams on Friday and one next Tuesday, so of course Im still avoiding working as much as possible (hence the big bog catch up) so took on my first 8 miler in London. I decided the easiest thing to do would be revert back to my 4 mile circular lap of the Isle of Dogs and do it twice. Simple. Simple and boring I discovered, the only light hearted moment on the dull cold grey stomp being the moment when I saw a man who I can only assume was still drunk from his bank holiday shuffle down the wall to come to a sliding sit on the pavement, explaining to the world in general that he'd just have a little rest. He clapped and cheered as I passed, possibly as I looked such a state I could hvae been a huffing puffing leftover from the marathon last month. He was still there on my second lap, and his clapping and cheering spurred me on. Its unkind to say but I hope he never finds his way home, and can be available to follow me up the 3 peaks on the big day like a mobile support unit. Hope hes there tomorrow, and now with reasonable alternatives exhausted its time to hit the books i suppose

Days 131 and 132

After the sucesses of the previous 2 days, the wise thing to do would be power through the pain and keep the routine going, and get another 8 miler done on the Friday, however an altogether more important routine overruled the sef torture. Friday is a busy hairdressers-food shop-lunch-bingo extravaganza with Grandma, and I may invest in a pedometer to track myself, because all that skivvying leaves me knackered every week.
Saturday I had an unusual walking experience too; on occasion, despite the fact that our house is surrounded by fields and the walkway you all know so much about now, Mam decides that the countryside is simply not good enough for her doggy, and so she pops him in the car and takes him in to town to do a couple of laps of the local park. It all sounds simple and painless, maybe even pleasant? Not with this dog in the equation. "Popping him in the car" involves lashing him to the back seat in his harness, as he refuses to go in the boot, and then wrestling him the whole way wherever we're going to prevent him from trying to sit in the drivers lap for the journey. The 15 minute drive seemed to trake 15 years and we emerged from the car covered in dog hair, dog drool and scratches, war wounds from the battle of the front seat. Mam found it all adorable though, and after being dragged round the park by the idiot animal chasing squirrels, birds and other smaller dogs for an hour she declared him tired and we repeated the process in the drive home, with the dogs hind quaters in the back of the car and his front end wedged in the gap between the front and passenger seats, dribbling contentedly.

Days 129 and 130

Its been a week, I know, but its been a busy one, and I'll tell you why...
Its been a week of three halves as football managers say (kind of) so I hope you'll excuse 3 posts in one day, ive just been revising so hard you see its hard to keep up:
Wednesday the 2nd of May was Eds 20th birthday. Now if id had my way this would have seen us scaling a mountain in celebration (because thats how I roll now) however the world of education doesnt recognise what I want (a massive flaw in the system) and so Eddie had an exam, happy birthday Ed. Dad was also conveniently busy and Mam was at work, but had chastised me harshly saying "poor little Newbie wanna go walkies with Rosie doesnt he, yes he does, yes he does good boy heres a little treat for you aww booboo baba" to the dog of course, but I assumed the message was aimed at me. Reluctantly then having relished my time without him (without bothering trying to apply his specia collar, to see why for previous failures view earlier blogs) I attached his lead and we set off. I strode out masterfully, aiming to conquer the 8 mile walk and the wayward mutt beside me. The dog got under my feet, he wrapped the lead round my legs, he dragged me off after rabbits, and when we got to a point where he was ready to go home he whined, but I ignored all. It began to rain, fat droplets splashing onto us, thick grey clouds rumbling above us, but I ignored all. Like the people on the money supermarket adverts I felt epic. By the time we got home (8 miles, 2 hours 5 minutes) the dog was trudging, and the only thing keeping me going was a cup of tea at the other end, but I did it, drenched and steaming from a mix of sweat and rain (I can only assume the lads mags have got the wrong phone number for me or something as upon reading this stuff they must be gagging to do a photoshoot with me) I made it home, Newbie and the 8 miler firmly put in their place.
If Nuts/Zoo/Fhm etc didnt want me on Wednesday They'd certainly have wanted me on Thursday, hobbling along like John Wayne, bandy legged and wincing, I regretted letting my stretches fall out of use, especailly when increasing the distance as I had. I gingerly limbered up again though, and with Dad suspiciously absent again, and the dog actively hiding from me not wanting a repeat of the day before I set off. Today the distance seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. In the movie at this point the Orlando Bloom jogger would emerge (of course he'd be up north not in London, how silly I'd been) and Scarlett and he would make out in the bushes. Alas nothing so exciting should happen to me, and so I waddled home like a duck in an overfilled nappy  completing my second 8 miler in a row in 2 hours 5 minutes.

Days 126, 127 and 128

After the weekend off for Dads birthday, I got back into the swing of things yesterday. Dads mini rest seems to be extending into a maxi break, as he scooted off early again yesterday morning, his suspiciously bad leg seemed to be holding up ok when he was heading for the door. In addition to my official walk I knew that I's be pounding the pavements all day yesterday shopping for a friends 21st (all the hard work on the walking to be outdone drinking last night) so I got into the zone and ploughed on. I didnt even bother with the dog. Without him and with the threat of rain looming and the shops opening soon (we shop in the style of being the first ones in when they open and making the last purchase before they close, the 3 peaks will be nothing in comparison to our marathon shopping days) I rattled through the countryside, 6 miles in an hour and a half, perfect.
Today I went again without the dog (he didnt seem to mind, he didnt even look up from his kennel when I passed) and I learned again a lesson I should definitely have picked up by now: walking is hard on a hangover. I was meant to be breaking into the 8 milers today, but I couldnt bring myself to do it. I got the 6 miles done though, and waivered and failed to carry on, turning tail and staggering home when I hit the 3 mile half way mark. Tomorrow I'll be showing the 8 miler who's boss, might even take the dog, that'll teach the lazy little git.

Days 123, 124 and 125

On Thursday I was at a funeral, not fun and no walk. (so less said about it the better really)
Friday has becoe a busy and tiring day with no time or energy for walking, with an early start to have Grandma to the hairdressers for 11 then laps of Northgate the local high street to get her essentials (fags and pies mainly, we are in Hartlepool now) before wisking her home again to be at the bingo by 2. Bingo is more of a mental challenge than a physical 1 but still draining let me tell you. A dozen old ladies working 5 books at a time is a sight to strike fear into any heart, Sca Fell Pike looks like a pimple in comparison.
Today is a big day. As of today never agin will we have to hear "I'm 51 you know!" Instead it is replaced with "I'm 52 you know!" Although with the age of some walkers we've seen Dad still doesnt really have  a leg to stand on, a more relevant observation than you might think owing to the fact that he literally hasnt got a leg to stand on, as is still claiming a bad knee. However his birthday presents did include not 1, not 2, not even 3, but 4 knee braces and a pair of trekking poles for extra support. Despite now having the equipment necessary to run up and down the three peaks dad has chosen to use his birthday authority to declare a rest day. Pass me the cake soemone... Happy birthday Dad

Days 121 and 122

Yestersday was a very early one (out at 7!) so that I could go in to uni and get my essay in, the walk was fairly uneventful, streets creepliy quiet at first, busying up with commuters towards the closing miles. I got my time back to 1 hour 15 minutes, AND went on to hand my essay in 2 hours before the deadline, sneaking in an extra odd mile walking between the library and the hand-in office. I added another odd mile when my flatmate asked me to go back to the library and print her essay, then  back to the hand-in office to meet her so that she wouldnt miss the deadline. I am super efficient, a wonderful housemate, and got some extra walking in. Successful day.
This morning I had to start early again, as (joys of student life) we've discovered mice in our house so I have to wait in for the pest control man today. I zipped out at 7am again today (a routine is not forming, I'm not interested in all these 7am starts thankyou) with grey clouds rolling in overhead. Keeping one eye on the sky I stomped around as fast as my little legs would carry me, and I was in the 5th mile when the first drops started. Looking like the cartoon roadrunner legs blurring, I hammered home, flopping through the door to a roll of thunder and the heavens opened. 1 hour 12 minutes, and the roadrunner blurred legs were jelly.

Days 117, 118, 119 and 120

On Friday we had a big day, with the hairdressers in the morning and bingo in the afternoon with grandma, so there was no time for a walk. On Saturday I was in Leeds for a 21st so didnt get one in then either. Yesterday I was in Kingd Lynn, and while it wasnt a sports bra worthy walking effort me and Marty did cover a couple of miles. Today I'm back in London and did make a sports bra worthy walk. This rain is getting out of hand however, and it even rained on the marathon runners yesterday I'm told. Not cool weather, not cool. So grumbling to myself dripping with rain water as wel as sweat I grumbled and stomped my way round, 6 miles this time (much easier power walking in trainers and without that infernal dog) in an hour and 20, time slipping. I blame the rain.

Day 116

Dad snuck out early again today, and wwhile the weather outside was still less than pleasant, uni work still seems by far the least preferable option, so I leashed up the dog and we set off. Las night I was in trouble for traumatising mams poor baby by taking him out in the wet (yes the dog, she scolded me as she ooh'd and ahh'd over the poor ickle thing as she dried him with a towel and snuggld him up on the sofa after "nasty rosie hurt you didnt she, didnt she poor Newbie..." but there are no favourites in our house...) After yesterday he did eye me suspiciously and wriggled away from the lead, resulting in me getting wrapped in his chain and as usual thinking hes rather more trouble than hes worth! So with the mangey mutt 2 nil up on me already we set off. Yesterday I dont know if you all know but it was raining, and neither me nor Newbie were particularly happy about it, but today it was just cold grey and ominously overcast, a treat in comparison really. Getting on fairly well now, in that neither of us seemed to have done anything to offend the other - I'd even manged a "morning" to our friend bird watching man without being dragged off too quickly (by the dog I mean, not bird watching man, who I'm sure is a lovely and harmless old man) - when we reachesd the 2 mile marker. This is where I realsied that the dog was far too used ot getting his own way; he sat down, had a drink from a puddle, a little stretch, and then nonchelantly turned for home "oi!" i squaked (yes I'm reduced to talking to a dog nowadays) "we've got another mile this way yet!" (because of course the dog understands distances and such) an epic battle of wills began, me walking the way I wanted to go, the dog walking the way he wanted to go, unitl we reached the end of the extendable lead. Stalemate. Realising that brazen cheekiness had failed Newbie whipped out the big guns; more donkey from Shrek annoying than puss in boots from Shrek cute he began to whine, and I'm ashamed to admit it didnt take long for me to crack and turn home. As soon a she knew he'd won the whinging stopped and he trotted back quite happily... little twerp. We were home in an hour and 5 minutes, but that does reflect the time spent on my waterloo at the 2 mile point. I fought bravely, but was out spoilt-bratted by the dog. Mummys little angel a million, me nil. Until next time.

Day 115

Dad made his excuses and departed early this morning, so it was left to me and the dog to get on with todays walk. The weather was grim and inside the house was pretty bleak too, as im approximately 3 weeks away from my final exams in my degree its coming up to the time when I should really be getting a move on with revision now. So I resigned myself to a mornings work hoping that at least the sun would put in an appearance later. By half past 1 I couldnt take any more (I cannot put into words how little I care about hundreds of pages of reading on the meta-ethics of Kant, long winded bugger that he is) and the rain had remained a consistent drizzle, so I decided to just get out there and get on with it. They say that the best laid plans can go awry, and while this was not the best laid plan, awry it certainly went. Firstly it was raining. Secondly with no-one in the house to assist me I couldnt fasten the dogs special collar, so had to take my chances with him in just a normal collar and lead. A mistake with our uncontrollable animal. Thirdly it was raining. Did I also mention that it was raining? Newbie didnt quite cach on to the rain at first and dragged me around for a mile or so, then Einstein amongst dogs that he is he seemed to have his eureka moment and promptly ran (already dripping wet) and hid in a bush. Taking that as my cue to turn around and declare todays effort a 4 miler I proceeded to drag him home, idiot dog darting from bush to bush, despite being already sodden. We made it home on the hour, not bad considering it was raining.

Days 112, 113 and 114

So after a few more recovery days... (I know I know, looks like I didnt learn my lesson after all) I'm back in London briefly to hand in an essay, which it turns out I cant actually hand in until next week, which is probably for the best since I havent finished it yet. While Im here though I thought Id take advantage of a nice flat pavement to get me back into the swing of things and relight my walking fire before I head back home and inflict my recaptured enthusiasm on Dad, if he'll ever walk again after his traumatic experience in Yorkshire of course. I woke up bright and early (7.15am dont you know), ready to get this show on the road (as I do make quite the spectacle of myself apaprently) and discovered very quickly that fire of any sort would struggle to be ignited in any form in this weather. Yes its raining. However I steeled myself Im not a witch (contrary to some comments) and therefore unikely to melt if I get a bit wet, so off I went.
Rain is wet. Seems like a statement of the obvious I know, but I dont think any of you can really understand until you've experienced it. And cold, so very cold. There were not many people about this morning (who would be mad enough to venture out in this icey torrent) and so I was reletively undisturbed, which was good because my attitutde following 5 minutes spent outside meant that even if my Orlando Bloom was to materialise today he wouldnt get much out of me, not that he'd want much with me rocking the drowned-rat-shuffling-along-with-my-soggy-hood-up-look. It was very much with a hurry up and get this over with view of the world today that I stomped around, resisting the ultimate temptation to flee back to our nice warm house when I passed it on the 4 mile mark, eventually returning to it 6 miles in 1 hour 15. So maybe it was jsut what I needed, it was certainly a cold wet hell but maybe also just what I needed...

Days 108, 109, 110 and 111

Despite acknowledging our recent dip in training, we proceeded to do nothing about it, assuming it would be alright on the night (or in this case very very early morning) of the Y3P. So we set off (at 5am!) to be at the official start point by 7am, aiming to have conquored the 3 peaks, Pen-y-Gehnt, Whernside, and Ingleborough, by 7pm, a route covering approximately 26 miles. As soon as we set off into the cold morning, armed with bobble hats cold pasta and cold pizza to see us through the day we realsised that we were idiots to miss even a single training walk in the build up to this. We were overtaken quickly by a troup of ladies in their 40s (dad didnt care becasue he was still the oldest person we'd seen, that his excuse and he's sticking to it) and a man who definitely looked older then 51, but dad says he didnt... Still huffing and puffing and cursing every easter egg last weekend and pint on tour and lazy night in front of the telly we reached the top of the first peak at 8.15am, Ed, mr super-fitness-duke-of-edinburgh-gold-award was the last to make it up, which gave me a smug satisfaction. No urges to shove anyone off mountains yet. Feeling much better about it all after a good start despite lack of fitness I bounded on, this time we were following the group of 5 in front of us, who seemed to be straying from the route, we blindly followed them however, assuming anyone mad enough to be up here at this time of morning must be doing the same as us. We caught them on the downhill and checked (dad must have been feeling chirpy too as he actually ran on the way down the hill!) they were indeed aiming for the 3 peaks, but the man turned out to be a guide (wimps, we didnt need professional help) who we had been lucky to follow as he was leading the group away from waist deep bog, which would have been over head height for me. We followed them accross the fields and moors until we were at the foot of the next mountain at 11am. The flat(ish) walking took us all by surprise as much more strenuous than we had anticipated and Jeff (the guide) told us in the view of many this is harder than the N3P as there you just go up and down your mountain then in the car to the next one. he car sounded like a heavenly place, and with dad and ed bleating for a sit down I allowed 15 minutes break, as long as they promised to emerge from the sit down refreshed and speedy again, which they agreed to do. In hindsight I now know they would agree to anything to get their backsides onto those rocks. Amazingly for all of you who know how lazy I am, when it comes to walking I am not a fan of sitting down, its a waste of time and i'd rather just get on with what we're doing, knowing that once you sit down you cant help but think how nice it would be to never get up again. Dad and ed strongly disagreed however so I had to give in to them, Urging them to their feet 20 minutes later they were amazed to discover that I was right and they were just as tired after they sat down as before, and my smug hapiness had evaporated along with the time we had lost doing nothing. Beginnning the second ascent both their speeds dropped and they were stubborn as mules to my pleas to just man up and get on with it. Frustrated I admit I stomped off and left them, reaching the top alone at 1pm, back on time target and happy. They reached the top coming up to half past 1, still leaving us 5 and a half hours to get on with the final mountain, which I think even at their decleerated pace we could have achieved comfortably. It was just then however that the snow started. I kid you not, a freak thisck white blizzard emerged from nowhere and engulfed s. We decided we'd try and press on in the hope that it would pass but it didnt, and by the time we reached the bottom of the hill we were cold and wet and Dads knees had gone again (he claims, and he was highly averse to my reasoned argument that one is much more prone to injury when one is unfit) and he was relieved by the decision by all that it may be stupid to try carry on. From there things descended into something of a shambles - dont they always with us - after a struggle to find phone signal we contacted mam, who was emant to be picking us up, turns out she was over an hour away thinking she still had 5 hours to get back to the end point. Then there was the issue of us having little idea where we actually were, cue much blank staring at the map and pointing out of houses/rocks/trees that may be usefull landmarks. In the end we sent ed out onto the mainest road we could see in the hope that mam would drive down it while i waited with the wounded soldier, who was becoming more and more in need of medical attention (in his opinion) by the minute. Such is random good luck on that friday the 13th mam did drive down the road ed was patrolling and the cavalry came to pick us up. Dad has declared (again) that his 3 peaks is over, and wants to switch our challenge to the coast-to-coaster instead now. Im not keen on giving up on the 3 peaks yet though as im sure we could have finished yesterday without the snow, and may have told dad we can do the "flat wusses walk as well"... So we've learned what we already knew; dont miss training walks, except for today, as none of us can really move.

Days 97 - 107

How the mighty have fallen, from scaling Scafell to slobbing on the sofa is exactly how far I've fallen to be precise. Rugby tour in Italy (not Otaly as previously stated) involved about as much excersise as can be expected, then there was the hangover on return from Italy, and then it was Easter, and I think we all know by now that chocolate is the top priority in my life, so I'm well on my way down a slippery slope here. Dad, devoid of my encouraging presence has slumped too, but theres still time for us to get it back! On Friday we'll be hitting the next big milestone in our training regime - the Yorkshire 3 peaks. For those of you unaware (as I was myself in blissful ignmorance to the existance of most of the things I've encountered since training began) the Y3P (as the are known to us pros) are a sort of mini version of the N3P (national 3 peaks, keep up darlings) which is of course the end goal. Word on the street, or mountain may be more apt in this case, is that if a party can complete the Y3P in half a day, then the N3P should be no bother in 24 hours. Dad has elected to bravely soldier on, and Eddie and I will be presenting him with his early birthday present to help him on Friday - trecking poles (essentially walking sticks for mountain climbers) he is 51 - nearly 52 - you know! So I'm sure after the hell that this will undoubtably be we'll all learn our lesson and never miss a walk again...

Days 94, 95 and 96

After recovery day Tuesday there was a (pretty rough) rugby match Wednesday which as resulted in needing 2 days off as really move at all, I am however walking back from the pub now, aching muscles fairly well lubricated by alcohol if that can be counted in my favour. Tomorrow I am off to Otaly for a week on rugby tour where I will techically be excersing with rugby (

Days 90, 91, 92 and 93

I was right about Saturday, there was no time for a walk (but I did get another cake) and on Sunday we deliberately had a rest day building up to yesterday, which was my 21st birthday (cue another cake) Dad and I took part in the traditional 21st birthday activity of... climbing Scafell Pike (highest point in England dont you know) I know its not as traditional as I've made it seem, but thats what we did anyway. all 3209 feet of it. After a hearty breakfast ( a fry up with dubious nutritional value) we were on the mountain by 9am. We approached from the Borrowdale side of the mountain, Brain and Steve prefer climbing from the other side as its an hour less footwork, but an hour and a half longer to drive to the start point. So whats another hour we blithely thought, we'll make mincemeat of it. What fools we were. The way the peaks of the mountain rise theres an initial thousand foot climb then you reach a plateau with a tarn (like a pond for those without Lake District knowledge, although I'm sure thats none of you) and from the bottom thats all you can see. No bother I though, is this really the highest point in England? However when you reach the ridge with the plateau another 2 thousand feet appearsf rom nowhere, and makes one feel quite sick let me tell you. However with a slight deviation from the path at the end involving a scramble up a vertical rock face we reached the top I'm proud to say in 2 hours 50 minutes, which is pretty good considering Brian and Steve expect us to be done in 5 hours, and surely coming down is quicker than going up right?
Wrong. wrong wrong wrong. As soon as he sat down at the top to eat his (now horerendously squashed and hideous looking froim sitting at the bottom of his bag) sandwich, I knew we'd have a job getting Dad to his feet again never mind back down the mountain. Sure enough after his impressive effort up, dad had little left but whinging for the way down. It started out small; a fly flew in his eye, a fly flew in his mouth, he had a stitch, his toe hurt, his other toe hurt, he had a headache, the sun was shinging in his eyes, and so on and so forth, all the while the pace dropping and dropping, until he decided the real problem was in his knees. "Most injuries happen on the way down, when people push themselves too hard, so I'm going at a speed I feel comfortable at," he whined, from a stationary position sitting on a rock. The only injury he ran the risk of was night falling beforer we got down and catching pneumonia in the cold! Eventually however he toddled down, oohing and aahing with every step like a distressed little chimp with every step, in 3 hours 40 minutes, bringing the grand total to 6 and a half hours. I'll keep focussed on the important part, 2 hours 50 to the top! Today there will be no walk as we need to recover, or as Dad half mournfully and half suspiciously gleefully keeps saying, his 3 peak dream will be over. A good birthday all in all, and now I know a third of what to expect on the big day.

Day 89

My birthday is coming up, and as I'm split between London and home it means I have double celebrations. This can only have negative effects on my walking... take last night for example, my birthday is still 3 days away and I already have 2 birthday cakes (not that I'm complaining at all!) and I toddled round my walk today swaying like a little ear of drunken corn still tipsy from wine. At least I did it though, in 1 hour 15 as usual so my speed wasnt affected, I may even have been faster than usual since I must have covered extra ground wobbling all over. I'm now going to have some cake for breakfast. Tomorrow I'm driving home for a birthday lunch and night out so there probably won't be time for a walk but I'll do my best. And now for cake...

Days 87 and 88

There was no walk yesterday with uni all morning and rugby stuff all afternoon. Today was a birght and early one though, setting off at 8.15am, after the shorts incident on Tuesday I dug out another pair (yes I own 2 pairs of sports shorts, who'd have thought it) today a nifty itte balck lycra number. I was almost as slinky as the robotic runners I'd been scorned by on the Isle of Dogs in these, however as far as I've noticed none of them huff and puff like theyre about to blow a house down, so maybe I'm not there yet. To complete my sexy new look, my right eye decided to run constantly throughout my walk today, making me look like I despise excersise so much I was crying for 6 miles as I went, or this is in fact a whole noew way to sweat, from every orifice, that only my body could provide.

Day 86

Today it was sunny again, very sunny. So I flashed out down to a t-shirt, and (drumroll please) the leggings were removed as I got the shorts out. Very sexy. I set off skantily clad, but still in the hotter weather as sweaty as ever. I enjoyed the breeze around by legs though... for about 30 seconds, at which point I noticed the sainted shorts beginning to chaffe. I completed the 6 miles in an hour and 15 despite hobbling around, and will probably be switching back to leggings tomorrow. Dad tried to feed me some cock and bull story about him doing a 12 miler, but I'm not sure I believe him!

Days 83, 84 and 85

Over the weekend I located my sports bra; it was in the wash. Relieved as I was to find it, there was still a problem; it was wet from being in said wash, and we students do not have tumble driers. While I waited for it to try I decided it would be best for health and safety reasons to refrain from walking without it, so I had an impromptu weekend off. This morning I drove back to London from Kings Lynn where I'd been to see Marty for his birthday, and Monday morning traffic well and truly screwed me over, leaving me not enough time to walk before uni. I nipped home after class to get my walk in before rugby training tonight.
So reunited with my sports bra todays walk could be described as a walk of two halfs; initially when I set off I cursed Dad and his shin spints, as my own lower legs began throbbing and twanging. I was less power walking and more crippled style hobbling along at a distinctly slower than usual pace when I heard "ROSIEEEEEE!" I stared round bewlidered (which is fairly hard to do whilst keeping moving at reasonable speed) "Ophelie..?" I called into the street (luckily recognising her french accent) but still didnt see her. I like to think that you wouldn't be able to imagine me stumbling around yelling into the middle of the road, but I sadly suspect it comes all too easily to you. Soon after Ophelie texted me explaining that she was hanging out of her window yelling, and that I should keep going as she was bringing cookies to training tonight. Strangely my legs began to hurt a little less, and spurred on by the thought of cookies I finished the 6 miles, but my legs are not really my friends now...

Day 82

Feeling more in line with the world today, I was up and about by 8am. However my dilemma of the day arose quickly; my sports bra has vanished. Not that my room is messy, but time ticked by as I rifled through the piles of junk scattered around it. I didnt want to run the risk of losing time and momentum, so thought I'd be able to compensate by wearing not 1 but 2 normal bras. I quickly realised that this was not going to be successful. I managed to dodge 2 black eyes and got round the 6 miles in 1 hour 15 minutes, but feel that its best for everyones mental imagery if the less said about todays walk the better...

Days 80 and 81

Yesterday was rugby training, and today has been a very bad day. I'll admit to being a tiny bit hungover, but my problems far outweigh that particular headache. First I was late to my class, then the teacher asked me a question I did not know the answer to. When I finally escaped onto  tube to come home and do my walk the tube was delayed, then when I made it on to a tube it was delayed again, then when I made it out of the tube there were no busses, then when I made it on to a bus there were loads of shreiking kids on it (why were they not in school?!) THEN when I made it off the bus I stubbed my toe! I darent do a walk today as I don't trust my legs any more than any other mode of transport today. I hardly dare type this should I electrecute myself somehow. Hopefully will fare better tomorrow.

Day 79

After the sweaty-hands-phone-on-floor debacle yesterday, the warm weather luckily seems to have passed today and I was back in a hoody for my walk today. After a 9am class I returned home and set off just before 11. The streets were fairly quiet, but I did attract attention from not 1 but 2 white vans (well I think it was the men in said vans rather than the vans themselves that I caught the eye of but you know what I mean) The first was just a horn honk and a wink as he passed, but the second was a full on slow down wind the window down lean out "alright daaaaaaahlin!" job. Some might be confused and slightly worried (knowing as you all know by now how smashing I look during these endeavours) about the reactions I raised in these men, I'm going to look on the bright side though, and say it's nice to know I've still got it (it being red sweatiness, but never mind)
Eddie appeared out of the woodwork and produced a time, 1 hour 52 minutes. Ha! Slow, loser! I scoffed, before realising that this was actually the time it had taken him to complete 8 miles. Urges to throw him off a mountain, which I thought were long gone seem to be rearing their ugly heads again, smug little git.

Day 78

After a glimpse into Dads 'training' at the weekend, I woke up early without my alarm and (hoping Dad was doing the same) set off at 7.50am. The warm snap has knocked me for 6 with warbrobe decisions. I removed my uniform hoody and skimped down to just a t-shirt (the leggings did stay, and socks and shoes and whatnot of course) This left me with a problem, 2 problems in fact; my phone and my keys. On one hand I've lost the pouch that comes with a hoody for carrying them, but on the other I can carry 1 item in each hand and use them as weights for an additional arm workout. The silver lining soon slipped off the cloud though, much like my phone which slipped from my sweaty little fingers and splat onto the pavement. I added minutes to my time flapping around after it, but luckily no harm was done. I managed to make up lost phone-panic time and got round the 6 miles in 1 hour 15 minutes. I havent heard from Dad, but I assume he's completed a lovely walk too...

Days 75, 76 and 77

On Friday I'm afraid that the closest I got to a walk was a lap of Morrisons with Grandma. There was an Eddie sighting though! It was very brief though, he came in, grunted at us all and then vanished into the night with a girl...
Yesterday (there was still no sign of Ed, so) me and Dad set off to Roseberry topping alone, well Mam was practicing her role as technical support by driving us, but on the sharp end of training it was me and Dad scaling the slopes. I expected to be in for a treat, as Dad has been telling me all about how he and Ed had been hopping up the hill like it was nothing every weekend. So I expected to be pleasantly surprised by a display of Dads increased fitness and skills. I quickly came to realise that Dad may have exaggerated slightly about his efforts on Roseberry topping - in that I doubt from the sight of his huffing puffing face that there have been any efforts at all. We made it to the top in the end though, and stomped back down. Halfway there though Dad took me by surprise (and himself I suspect) by declaring that he was sufficiently warmed up enough now to turn around and go back to the top. Agape I trailed in his wake, and we made it back to the top and down again in 1 hour 16 minutes in total.
Today it was warm and sunny, and could be accurately described as sticky. The description became more and more apt as we plodded on. Sensing a gap in Dads training I opted to stick with Brain and Steves prescribed 6 mile route rather than flashing out on a 10 miler as Dad suggested. I suspect that he was pretty relieved with my choice. There was much grumbling, but we covered 6 miles in 1 hour 34 minutes, which is 6 minutes quicker than Dads usual time, so something of a success. Eddie emerged from his room in time to wave me off back to London (when he had returned home and what he had been doing in the mean time was anyones guess)

Days 73 and 74

On the comedown from the big match university life has been getting back into routine, following which I use Wednesday as my rest day from walking when we have training, yesterday however training was cancelled, and so I maintained my rest day, but passed it in the pub rather than on the pitch.
This morning was a bright and early one as I have a new class starting at noon. I was up and out at 8.15am, thats right, prime commuter time. The sun was shining and birds were singing, and I got my adrenaline fix from each mini race, and dodged horrendous school children and cars alike as I darted round the isle like I had a rocket up my backside as Grandma woud say. Although I felt like I was moving quickly, I must have subconciously have wanted to enjoy the sun (and barging horrible little brats from my path when their parents weren't looking) as I remained at my usual spee, and clocked in a 1 hour 15 minute time. Had a worrying report from Dad that he and Newbie had to abort their walk owing to a sore paw from our 4 legged friend. Infuriating as I find him when I'm with him (I do mean the dog, although this could also be applied to Dad on occasion), absence makes the heart grow fonder for me, so get well soon Newbie! And Eddie? Well your guess is as good as mine.

Day 72

I was right in my prediction of my mood, and set off today with feet as light as my heart. Apparently I have become something of a celebrity on the Isle of Dogs... can you imagine the east enders discussing me, I'll paint you a picture; there they are all gathered around their pints discussing their wealings and dealings, when I crop up in conversation - "Sweaty girl, stomps around like a baby elephant on a mission? Yeah I've seen her" so I was tempted to wear sunglasses to reflect my new found fame, and add some glamour for my adoring fans (although they are more likely to actually be traumatised innocents who just happened to look out of the wrong window at the wrong time and witness me in al my glory) however humble as I am I refrained. I dashed around the Isle in 1 hour 15 minutes, and had a successful report from Dad (1 hour 39 minutes!) Eddie seems to vanish off the face of the earth, so no-one knows whats going on with him nowadays, I'll find out and let y'all know

Days 68, 69, 70 and 71

We lost. We lost the Big Match. I think I'll be creative in the movie and let us win though, for the sake of the feel-good factor. We did work really hard though, and I'm sure this is what all losers say but we were robbed slightly. I threw myself on to and under (as is the way of rugby) the bodies of some gargantuan opposition (no offence to our worth adversories UCLWRFC, you are what you are, and heaven knows I'm no supermodel myself) I had a few knocks to the head (as seems to be my way) and after 80 minutes hard graft stepped off the pitch to a deep swig of a well deserved pint, following which I promptly vomited. There was no walk, but I certainly sweated like I'd done one. You should have seen me out there, it was probably enough to make anyone sick.
Saturday morning then I woke up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck (again no offence UCLWRFC) my neck hurt so much it felt like it was part of a seperate body, and my arms and legs were refusing to co-operate with either me or each other too. Although I couldn't bring myself to a walk, I loaded up on posh painkillers to get myself into a pair of heels for KCL Law Society's annual ball. There was free champagne, and as the painkillers started to wear off I'l admit I made the most of it.
Sunday morning saw an early start for me, there was to be no time for a walk as I had to hot foot it to King's Lynn to get to Farmer Freds Play Barn with Marty and his son. Normally I wouldn't mention this (lord knows I try to keep mentions of Marty to a minimum) but for the fact that far from the chirpy fun house its name makes it seem, Farmer Freds is in fact a hellish torture chamber, particularly for those nursing champagne hangovers from the day before, and incredible rugby aches and pains from the day before that. Great fun was of course had by all, but scrambling around the obstacle course that it was, I'd have taken a 6 mile walk any day.
Today then I started my walk irritable to say the least. University admin (wonderful as it is) let me down all morning, and with legs still in protest to excersise after the weekend, passers by today witnessed me at my grumpy stomping best. It's also been very windy in London today, and the streets of the Isle Of  Dogs all seemed to have turned themselves into wind tunnels, with me having to walk into the wind of course. To make matters worse there was also a stone in one of my shoes. Today was not a good day. Luckily the streets were fairly empty, and aside from the wind and my own bad mood there was nothing standing between me and a lovely walk. And that stone, that was rather in the way too. I threw some venom into my stomps though, and spurred on by a text from dad clocking in his time at 1 hour 40 minutes, despite adverse conditions natural and man made completed my route in 1 hour 15. Hopefully tomorrow the wind will be gone, I'll have an early night and my grumpy cross patch mood will be gone, I can put the rollercoaster of a weekend behind me, get that stone out of my shoe, and enjoy myself.

Days 65, 66 and 67

Just a quick one as I'm rushing around preparing for The Big Match (tomorrow - eek!) Rugby has taken over my life slightly this week and after the difficulties I suffered on Monday I completed Tuesdays efforts in a fairly slow time (1 hour 20) and with a slight limp, I'm obviously overworked...
Yesterday I didn't walk, which was for the best as we did light training at rugby and have been told expressly to do as little as possible for today (and to eat a load of pasta, excellent) So today, devastated as I am to be banned form walking yet again I'm going to sit back, relax in the sun, and stuff my face...
Wish us luck for the big match tomorrow, I'll let you know how we get on.

Day 64

I was right about rugby yesterday, and with more tonight I wasn't sure I would make it out of bed at all today, but I did. legs groaning under me I staggered out of the front door. In stark comparison to yesterday, I found the whole endeavour an uphill struggle today. The streets were crowded with Monday morning commuters and everyone seemed gloomy about it. Normally I can only really tell how sweaty I am by reading the looks of horror and disgust on the faces of passers by, but today either its warmer than it ever has been before, or my chronic sweatiness has reached new levels. (for the sake of humanity I can only hope for the former) I could feel my clothes starting to stick to me pretty early on, and I might has well have been swimming rather than walking by the time I got in. Even though I felt as though I was making even more effort than normal my time was slower, but I pulled it back (and bizzarely enough improved my mood) by torturing myself with effort in the last mile, and managed the 6 miles in 1 hour 15 minutes again. Despite not being able to get into the zone (blimey I do sound like a regular excersiser now!) I maintained my time, and hopefully will be happier (and less sweaty) with it tomorrow. Unless rugby training finally kills me off...

Day 63

Learning my lesson from Wednesday and Thursday I got up early today to get my walk in before rugby destroys me later. At 8am I set off on my 6 mile route round the isle of dogs, and (as you might expect that early on a Sunday morning) it was deserted. After the walking boots and rough ground and the dog doing my head in yesterday it was quite peaceful, I could almost say I enjoyed it! I saw some joggers (fellow excersise enthusiasts as I now like to think of them, even if my enthusiasm is only very fleeting) but no Orlando Bloom alike as yet. Something I did see very few of was busses, which is a poignant testement to Londons Sunday bus system, since I could count the number of them that I saw on the fingers of 1 hand and I was out for an hour and 15 minutes.

Days 61 and 62

Being Friday yesterday was as usual the busiest day of the week for Grandma, with a trip to the hairdressers, a visit from the cleaner and the weekly shop to do she's rushed off her feet. My feet, and legs were still in protest from Wednesday, after the effort exerted I deserve to have legs which resembe socks stuffed with coconuts, so bulging should the muscles be, but this is not the case, and I'm still struggling round bandy legged and bedraggled 2 days later. I must admit that all I could manage was a lap of Morrisons before I collpased into a heap of pain.
This morning though I was detrmined to overcome the adversity, and get at least 1 proper walk in while home. I was spurred on in this by the revelation that Dad has been slacking off to an unbelievable rate, and actually hasn't logged a walk since last time I forced him out of the house onto one. The last time I saw or heard from Ed was when I ran into him on a drunken night out in Newcastle last week, apparently he is home too this weekend, but has only moved from his bed in the hours before noon to hunch over his x box, so I think his walking is under question at the minute too. At 8am though he was of course nowhere to be seen, so I decided to take my victories where I could get them, and thinking that 1 out of 2 lazy Allison males wasn't bed, pestered Dad out of the house by 8.12. Of course the dog had to be included, guilting Dad into letting him join us with a few whimpers and tail wags. I am not so easily fooled by his cutesy act, and of course within minutes he was under our feet an in our way (the dog I mean, not Dad) The walkway often has more foot traffic on it on Saturdays and Sundays, people who Dad sneeringly judges "weekenders" although he himself has become rather a weekender such is his decreasing frequency at training. By setting off early though we managed to beat most of them, and only had to restrain Newbie from 1 over enthusiastic black labrador. Dads warm up mile which has become part of he settled routine now only held us back by 5 minutes, and after making life a lot harder for himself with his impromptu week off, and a lot harder for me coping with my own still weak legs as well as his whinging, we completed the 6 miles in a rather pleasing 1 hour 35 minutes, just 5 minutes off Brian and Steve's prescribed pace. This gives me light at the end of the tunnel of encouraging Dad to reconsider the 24 hour attempt rather than the weekend effort on the big day(/s) but I suspect he is more likely to fly up the mountains on a pig than complete them all in one day. Tonight I'm returning to London for more training tomorrow (we're in the final build up to our biggest match of the season on Friday, so hopefully things may slack off back to normality after that) and with Mam, Dad and Grandma out tonight, and Eddie hitting the pub too (not that that seems to affect the time he gets up in the morning, or should I say afternoon) I can probably predict that tomorrow I'll be the only one doing anything, and then on Monday may be struggling to walk again. We'll see if I'm right soon enough.

Days 59 and 60

Yesterdays rugby training was technically a day off I suppose as there was no walking involved, however this as no ordinary rugby training, we focussed on "fitness" (thus demonstrating my lack thereof, although performed slightly better than I would have done this time last year) Today then, my legs are NOT my friends. Every step involves twingeing tweaking and tears (ok slight over-dramatisation of the pain but it is baaaad) if my body parts could talk they'd be saying "why would you d this to us?!" and at the minute the answer is rally dnt know, suffice to say if ever squat again it wll be too soon... therefore sadly  i am unlikely to walk 6 meters today never mind 6 miles, but  i have confirmed something -  id rather have a nice walk any day, so hopefully ill be able to do some hobbling tomorrow

Day 58

Today after a double dose of rugby yesterday and the day before, with my first London 6 miler under my belt, my legs are feeling like jelly; hard stiff lead jelly (because they are wobbly as well as heavy you see) However after consuming almost my body weight in pancakes with more to follow tonight I forced myself back out onto the pavement, setting off at half past 2 after a full morning of uni (and pancakes) I had left myself open to falling foul of school run time, luckily I flew round the 6 mile route like a little lead jelly on legs, rushing back to my pancakes, with a pe-mixed-just-add-milk packet at home I've got a lot to be getting on with, more tomorrow