I had a target for today, which was to warm up (10 minutes) then run 3 miles at 9 minute miles. This, as I indicated already, is really rather fast. For example, it is faster than I was running on the 10 k on Saturday, when I came 168th out of 322! (Stop Press!) Imagine if I'd run 9 minute miles the whole way! I'd be dead! Anyway, running Dave, who regards 9 m/m as reasonably gentle, was keen to join me because he hurt his foot last week, so he wanted to know if it was better. We discussed the best route for my venture, and decided that neither of us could bear to run around Fengate twice, and it wasn't long enough to get my 10 minute warm-up in and 3 miles on one circuit, on account of only being 2.5 miles total. But our next level up is 5.7 miles. We decided I could do the rowing lake, and by the time we got back to Asda's we'd have done my programme and we could do what Dave called a "warm down" run. I have to say at the outset, I was suspicious.
Anyway, moustachioed Chris came with us as well - as a matter of fact, fresh from Edinburgh, where he'd seen a show with two moustachioed men in it, and at the end, they had given him some tips on good mustache-wax, which he was sporting today. He seemed at pains to tell me what it was called and where to get it, so I had to let him know that I never wax my mustache. He had calf muscle problems, so was also keen for a "gentle" run. Well, we chatted away quite happily right until I increased the speed, and around then, I kept schtum. Well I had to. I was focusing on breathing. I let the boys talk. Funnily enough, they did, as well. Chattering away. Chris said his main way of running a race was to find a nice arse and running behind it. (He phrased it slightly more politely than this, he said a nice curvy figure, but I'm a big believer in saying what you mean). I panted that the problem for girls was that the good looking blokes ran too fast. I was kind of serious. Stick at the back, and you're going to be with the slightly old, out-of condition, wheezing chaps, aren't you? Anyway, they both took umbridge, asking me who I thought I was running with, so I had to do some rapid back-peddling. "Well, obviously with two chaps who are running deliberately slowly so I can do my training" I replied, which I think placated them.
Well, we got round to the top of the rowing lake. I was the only one who had a garmin on today, so I was keeping my eye on the pace, and we observed with interest the fluctuations it made when we were comfortable with the fact we were running evenly. Tree cover seemed to particularly upset it. Anyway, there we were, going much faster than we should. I kept my eye on it, but no, between 8 and 8:20 m/m was what we were doing. So when Dave asked for an update, I told him, 8:15. "Oh" said Chris, "shall we slow down then?" Now my feeling was, we were cracking on, and quite comfortable at that pace, and although we weren't going to run the race doing it, we had already run 2.85 miles at fast, so even going a little over (I forgot to record how far we'd done in the first 10 minutes), we could maintain that speed. That was my thinking, so I panted it out. They both recoiled. "It's not what Sal said" Dave said. "And you know she's in the office today," Chris told me, "So it'll be a real beating, not a virtual one." "But she's not going to mind if I go too fast" I said, "Surely?". "I can distinctly remember one time in Northinster," Dave recalled, "Sal standing outside the shower door, shouting at me through the door..." "What was she shouting about?" I asked. He appeared not to have heard me, so Chris, realising I could barely speak, repeated it. "Well, I think it was for running too fast, just before I did Grunty Fen", he said. I have no idea if he was winding me up. For all I know, they both wanted desperately to slow down, and had exchanged guy-glances to hatch a plot they were reasonably sure would work. "Right, let's slow down then" I said, and we did.
I mentioned to Dave that his reputation from his days working in Kent was still strong, and he groaned and said "Oh, not the working naked in the office again?". "Oh, do tell" said Chris, "I haven't heard this one...". I'd heard it was underpants, so I was quite surprised, but disappointingly, it turned out I was correct. Anyway, his office (he had one to himself... the olden-days) was under the eaves, and very hot in summer, so he put a warning sign on the door, mentioning he'd be scantily clad and knocking was advised, but someone showing visitors around ignored it, and got quite a surprise...
When we'd got back to Asda's, we'd actually run 4.5 miles, including the 10 minute warm up, so basically we'd either done rather well, or startlingly disobeyed clear instructions, depending on your viewpoint. I'm pretty sure that it was the former. We slowed right down, or at least it felt like that. I glanced at the garmin a few minutes later, and noticed that our leaden-footed pace was coming in at 9:26, i.e. quite a bit faster than I ran my super 10km race on Saturday. Madness, how it seemed slow after running a few miles just a bit faster. Anway, we "plodded" back to the office (I'm not plodding like that on Sunday), and not even Dave suggested that we go faster at the end. None of us seemed to have sustained any injuries, to my surprise, not even Chris's sore calf muscle (which sounded worrying to me).
I checked Dave's story out with Sal, and I could have misread her face, but I thought she looked a little impressed that we'd done better than nine minute miles. She had no recollection of shouting at Dave through the shower door, but did have an alternate theory about what she might have been doing, lurking outside the men's changing room... saucy wench.
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