Day 26

Wanting to make the most of my time in the countryside (I'm heading back to London this afternoon) I thought I'd try a six mile walk on for size; or in this case speed, and stamina. If Dad can do them then so can I. Dad had indulged himself with 2 mojitos last night, because he's fruity like that, and so was not in much condition to move anywhere, and by 10.45 Ed was still in bed, so I collected the dog's lead again, deciding to give him one last chance, and thinking that I might need him to pull me home a few miles in, and set off.
Today I was more focussed than ever before, pushing myself to the max. Brian and Steves 4 mile an hour pace dictated that it should take me and hour and a half to complete this, and knowing that Dad had produced such times as 93 minutes, my competitive juices were flowing. As I was leaving Mam had advised an extra fleece, describing the weather as "quite windy". It was indeed quite windy, and I appreciated the extra layer... for about the first 5 minutes, after which I quickly became too hot, and began relying on that quite windy wind to blow the sweat off my extra sweaty face (attractive I know, but if you're not used to this sort of mental imagery by now you're reading the wrong blog darlings). I kept my head down and marched. At the 2 mile normal turnaround point the dog hesitated, I could see his little doggy mind processing my movements as I trundled on, like a long haul lorry "Has she gotten confused, this is where we go home!" he wimpered but trotted dutifully after me. Turning round a mile later having conquered new territory I was jubilant, that wasn't so bad! Homewards I strode feeling chipper, until I completed the fourth mile. At this point my body expected to collapse on the sofa, but we were still 2 miles shy of home. The only way I can describe that fifth mile is hell. Absolute hell. Reaching the marker that told me I was only a mile from home now though I got some sort of second wind; the dog was trudging at this point and far from him assisting me, the Rudolph to my Santa of walking that I had imagined, it was me dragging him back over the threshold of home. 1 hour 24 minutes. Thats 84 minutes, 9 minutes faster than Dad and 6 minutes faster than the great Brian and Steve! However there's a chance I'll never walk again; which bodes well for my rugby match tomorrow; I'll let you know how that goes, and if Dad ever recovers from the mojitos....