Running is both pleasure and pain, success and failure, exhilaration and tedium. I will never stop
It is raining, hard. It’s back during the New South Wales floods, and I can hardly see through the saturated sheets of water stinging my face. There isn’t a soul on the streets – no other halfwit is putting themselves through this deluge. But I have already missed two marathon training sessions this week and will not under any circumstances make it a terrible trifecta.
I arrived at my parents’ place for dinner, planning a tempo run before we eat. Inexplicably, my shoes did not arrive with me. So here I am, plodding in an old pair of my mum’s, akin to squelching weights around my ankles.
