I hate early mornings 22April 2014

The news that Andy had committed and that we now had a full team made me realise I had better start training for the Beast of Ballyhoura.

So on Easter Monday night I set my alarm for 6.30 on Tuesday morning, so I could get a 6km run in before getting everybody off to school.  Because I had already committed to train for the labour of Hercules and was intending to reprise the Isle of Wight Randonee, I had already got a smallish training schedule in place.  I suggested to my 17 year old son, Jack that he accompany me at this unearthly sparrow fart hour run.  (F.Y.I. early hours in our house are referred to as sparrow fart)
He was up for it.  I cannot tell you how much I loath and resent that flipping alarm.  Chirping its cheery little greeting to the morning.  What is wrong with the thing?  It is unnatural to be that chipper in the morning!

I dragged myself out of bed.  I hauled on my running kit and stuffed my feet into my trainers.  I really mean stuffed because I never undo the laces.  I hate my trainers to be too tight because that sets off the fasciitis... (another story) So I have got them a the perfect level of looseness and don't want to risk undoing them. I wear scotts ladies running shoes that have a road running sole with a trail running grip. The other trail shoes and plain road shoes I have worn started off a bit of Achilles tendonitis.  Anyhoo.... I slurped a bit of black tea down.  Shoved my ventolin inhaler (I have asthma) and phone into my waterproof running pouch and headed out of the door.

It may have been a lovely morning.  I couldn't tell you.  For me it was, quite frankly, one of the worst runs I have had, in a long time.  Jack blocked the world out with his headphones before I had even switched Endomondo on and said, "Let's go."  I had explained we were doing a gentle 6k together.  He shot of like a rocket within 400m and that was the last I saw of him until he stepped out of his bedroom in his school uniform about 1 1/2 hours later.

I was so excited I was actually starting my training.  My heart was there.  Unfortunately my body and mind were not.  I slogged my way through the first 1/2 km and then had a lousy asthma attack.  I sucked on that Ventolin like it was a final cigarette before execution!  I couldn't understand why suddenly my asthma decided to rear its ugly head.  "Right,"  I thought,  "I will walk."  And walk I did for the first 3km and then, I woke up and my body said, "Yes!" and I was away happily running through the mud and puddles, enjoying the fact that I was finally out there training for a goal, heading towards Ballyhoura.