Is not recommended. (Or maybe it was excess red wine from the night before?)
Warning… This blog post will probably contain ‘too much information’.
We were up in Northumberland this weekend for a party. At some point over countless glasses of champagne the conversation turned to running. Like why we stopped overnight on the drive up at Pontefract. To parkrun of course! (parkrun blog for Juneathon day 29 to follow, I’m behind due to lack of internet access in the far NE of England, and spending 7 hours of Sunday driving home again.)
I was asked what time I run 5K in and at some stage before the red wine started flowing I had ‘agreed’ to go for a Sunday morning run (my time must have been acceptable for me to be invited). I carried on and enjoyed the evening and plenty more red wine and dancing in stupid heels until after 1 am.
Next thing I know it’s 7.30am and OH has brought me a cup of tea and a large glass of water. He seemed rather too keen for me to make the 9am run. Next time he wants to engage the competitive nature of friends he can go and run with a hangover himself!!
Anyway, I said I would be there so I had to get up and go. I felt fine after plenty of fluids and looked around for something to eat for a little light fuel for my run. We were staying in a cottage in the hotel grounds and had bought food for the boys’ DVD night so I went in search of leftovers. In the absence of bread, malt loaf or bananas I hovered down an egg custard tart (pretty much all there was) with some more water and hoped for the best.
We were joined by another party guest and set off on a square loop on quiet country roads. Mr Competitive was true to type and set off expecting us to follow on. I hung back a little as I could hear the other guy was already breathing hard and for the first mile we ran three abreast with a little conversation. We turned onto a larger road where there was some traffic so started running in single file. At this point the pace increased and I kept the distance behind Mr Competitive consistent ony easing off for an uphill climb and a steep downhill.
After a couple of miles the other guy had dropped further behind me. I sympathised because I was also beginning to feel the effects of the wine. We were running along a straight road with fields either side and I started to get those tell-tale stomach pains and I hoped I was going to make it back to the Hotel. At what stage do you know a running companion well enough to say you’re going to nip over the hedge for a quick “Paula”?!
I toughed it out and continued at reasonable pace making it back to the hotel not too far behind Mr Competitive with my dignity intact and after brief post run pleasantries returned to our cottage and managed to get younger son out of the shower and only bathroom just in time.
Juneathon day 30. 3.18 miles.