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.