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