My long run in the Road to GNR program was booked in for tonight, so of course that means one of those grotty running commutes. My requirement was for 8 miles. I’m still unsure why I set my plan in miles when I can only run in kilometres, on either scale it meant I had to run past the accidental bus stop. Quite a struggle.
Three quarters of the way home I ran out of water. Plain ole drinking water is a bit of premium in the UK at the moment, it has reached prices in the region of £15 per litre in some of the flood hit areas. Given my tight budget I thought tonight was the time to try Lucozade Sport.
It played havoc with my intestines, what a sickly drink. I struggled a bit with the bottle as well. Its clearly a good design in some respects as it doesn’t leak at all even with the cap off and a bit of vigorous shaking but I found imbibing fluid to be a struggle. The first squeeze sent a high powered jet of gloop to the back of my throat. My soft pallete hadn’t been forewarned about the incoming missile and so half made its way into my trachea, by the time my throat swung into action the bottle decided to splutter and give up a bolus of high pressure gas, straight to the oesophagus this time.
No wonder I felt ill. Maybe I could skip running training and just spend the next 9 weeks teaching myself how to drink. Anyway, the upshot is, I discarded the sports drink outside my local Stella shop and opted instead for my favourite recovery tipple. Who needs chocolate milk.
Total kilometrage was 11.55, I believe that is slightly short of 8 miles but you can’t shake Stella so that had to be my limit. Plus, the fumes along the A4 are so intense that I’m almost running on pure carbon monoxide, which in my mind equates to everest style altitude training sessions where 11.55 km = more than 8 miles sea level running. Yes?