Why do I run? I ask myself that often as I pound, rather slowly, along the track. I have never been a fan of this form of exercise. In fact I have been averse to most intense exercises. I reserve a special place in the septic tank of hell for circuits, but let's not go there.
For me I do not seek personal bests, although progress would be nice. My lifestyle does not lend itself to consistent and dedicated training that constant improvement would demand. I all too often find myself breaking out of the habit by being unwell, travelling or committing to other things.
I am now less than a week from my 8th Antwerp 10 Mile run and, due to lack of training for the reasons stated above, I am in doubt as to whether I should participate. Yet this is one of the core reasons why I do run in the first place. Determination. It is a mental as well as a physical challenge and it takes a degree of courage and willpower to drive forwards in the face of obstacles.
My lungs and my legs will suffer but a short inconvenience. It is the desire to start, take part and finish that is worth the pain. For some it is not so much of a challenge, everyone has their own personal reasons for running and, although we run with thousands of others, we run alone at the same time.
An unexpected bonus, once my lungs and legs could cope, was the thinking time that a long and gentle run affords. The, relatively, fresh air and time to consider your life, your problems, solutions or maybe just hum the Star Wars Imperial March tune, as often comes to mind when I run without my music.
The anticipation of starting a long run, after having had a blocked nose/cold, can be quite intimidating. Sometimes you just have to get out there, in all weathers and commit.
I recently re-started my training whilst staying with some friends, some would say a bid to escape the 3 year old goddaughter. I was not familiar with the area and my friend kindly sketched out a route and indicated where I should expect slopes. She highlighted one in particular, which she recommended I walk up. Of course my mind was made up that I would take this head on and jog up.
I was unprepared for the run as I expected better weather, it was minus something and I was quite numb in my tracksuit trousers and two t-shirts. Mentally I wanted to see how far I could get and so I set out. It was only 6 km the first time then I did another run the next day, which was just over 7 km. It is always worth it, getting out again and getting started. You notice so much more when you plod along and can breathe at the same time!
Starting up again is always going to be a risky choice, mainly as so many friends and family suffer from bad knees. I often think of my body as a machine packed with sensors monitoring every aspect of my well being. The twinge in the knee, the capacity of my lungs, the beating of my heart and fatigue of my muscles. I monitor for the signs of danger and am constantly reviewing whether I need to cease and recover. Preserve myself for the next day.
To the Antwerp run, I know it well. Having been round so many times you know where everything is and learn to dread or perhaps steel yourself for the final, long, tunnel. It seems such a long way and never has the term 'there is light at the end of the tunnel' been so fitting. That light, however, takes what seems like hours to see, let alone reach. It is a real motivational challenge, made more so by the odd casualty falling by the wayside. Determination, perseverance and the will to succeed. Last year was stiflingly hot, by far the most challenging run I have done, to be followed by a half marathon where the temperature was also oppressive. It is in these conditions that the will to succeed is really tested.
So why do I run, well, fitness, determination, escape, thinking time, fresh air, definitely not for fun!
Wednesday, 24 April 2019
Thursday, 4 April 2019
Give This Post a Miss if You Are Averse to the Word Fuck!
The great thing about the mind is that you can entertain yourself without upsetting those around you. As I travel back and forth, I take time out from the real world and delve into my mind to seek out distraction, solace or relief.
The warning in the title of the blog is essential, if fact I am not sure if it will be censored altogether. My intention is not to offend but to open my mind to you, if you are interested in the musings of a commuter.
So, Fuckwits. That was not a form of address, but the subject and more to the point the application of this noun (I had to look this up and quite frankly I am not convinced I am using the term correctly, I could qualify as an ignorant fuckwit in such case).
So why? What is special about fuckwits? Well let me tell you, there are some particular fuckwits out there that deserve special attention.
We are living through a particularly challenging time in the UK where there are over 600 useless, arrogant and ignorant fuckwits deciding, or not as the case seems to be, our future. One could argue that they are cockwombling, cunting fuckwits, but let's not stray from the point. Try getting your mind around that description, it is a thought that you can dwell on for a while.
I am not biased, it doesn't matter whether you are a remain fuckwit or a leave fuckwit, collectively it is better to just blanket the term across all. We often do this when thinking of fuckwits at large, and I don't mean roaming bands of fuckwits, although on a Friday night these can be found congregating around pubs and nightclubs, throwing up and fighting with each other.
Of course the term can apply on an individual basis such as when I lost my hearing aid at the weekend and labelled myself a total fuckwit. It had been a long, painful and expensive week. I had my car repaired by some dodgy fuckwits, I say that because the fault they were meant to address was not resolved and I had to rely on a trusted garage to apply a rather expensive fix.
Still, where were we? I am often surrounded by ignorant, mindless fuckwits, who cannot walk on the left, take their eyes from their phones, express any manners or indeed acknowledge their fellow commuters. Occasionally there are rare moments when you discover the human being travelling with you, that is, among the zombie fuckwits.
I have to say the term fuckwit is not one that I use in my everyday discourse and that is not due to the lack of them around me. In fact, thinking about it, it tends to be when I am driving and I am threatened by the dangerous manoeuvre of some thoughtless fuckwit. The kind of mental fuckwit that has no concept of personal space. The kind of fuckwit that believes that it is sensible to hog the middle lane of the motorway. We could spend all day on this. Bus drivers often qualify when they lack the skill or will to apply the correct level of force to the accelerator and brake.
I don't believe that you can have an intelligent fuckwit, bit of an oxymoron (yes, I looked that up). That said, intelligent people can be arrogant and insensitive fuckwits, so no escape there.
Useless fuckwits, now there is a wide ranging category, I think back to my training and watching some of these trying to master the art of weapons training. I was in despair that they were on the same side as I! You can have disorganised fuckwits trying to run your life, these tend to be immune to the consequences of their actions.
The thing is, when my mind applies this broad brush label to my fellow fuckwits, it is a sweeping judgment that takes no account of who they are, what their intent is, what they are going through or what they have dealt with. It is a judgement that I would normally keep firmly in my own head, no need to upset anyone is there?
My mind, your mind, is such a great place if you want to explore it and are free to demolish the ethical and moral boundaries that we usually have to adhere to. After all, we can't yet be arrested for having inappropriate thoughts, at least not yet.
My god, it would be like Tourette's, think of the movie What a Woman Wants, only with the gloves off.
The warning in the title of the blog is essential, if fact I am not sure if it will be censored altogether. My intention is not to offend but to open my mind to you, if you are interested in the musings of a commuter.
So, Fuckwits. That was not a form of address, but the subject and more to the point the application of this noun (I had to look this up and quite frankly I am not convinced I am using the term correctly, I could qualify as an ignorant fuckwit in such case).
So why? What is special about fuckwits? Well let me tell you, there are some particular fuckwits out there that deserve special attention.
We are living through a particularly challenging time in the UK where there are over 600 useless, arrogant and ignorant fuckwits deciding, or not as the case seems to be, our future. One could argue that they are cockwombling, cunting fuckwits, but let's not stray from the point. Try getting your mind around that description, it is a thought that you can dwell on for a while.
I am not biased, it doesn't matter whether you are a remain fuckwit or a leave fuckwit, collectively it is better to just blanket the term across all. We often do this when thinking of fuckwits at large, and I don't mean roaming bands of fuckwits, although on a Friday night these can be found congregating around pubs and nightclubs, throwing up and fighting with each other.
Of course the term can apply on an individual basis such as when I lost my hearing aid at the weekend and labelled myself a total fuckwit. It had been a long, painful and expensive week. I had my car repaired by some dodgy fuckwits, I say that because the fault they were meant to address was not resolved and I had to rely on a trusted garage to apply a rather expensive fix.
Still, where were we? I am often surrounded by ignorant, mindless fuckwits, who cannot walk on the left, take their eyes from their phones, express any manners or indeed acknowledge their fellow commuters. Occasionally there are rare moments when you discover the human being travelling with you, that is, among the zombie fuckwits.
I have to say the term fuckwit is not one that I use in my everyday discourse and that is not due to the lack of them around me. In fact, thinking about it, it tends to be when I am driving and I am threatened by the dangerous manoeuvre of some thoughtless fuckwit. The kind of mental fuckwit that has no concept of personal space. The kind of fuckwit that believes that it is sensible to hog the middle lane of the motorway. We could spend all day on this. Bus drivers often qualify when they lack the skill or will to apply the correct level of force to the accelerator and brake.
I don't believe that you can have an intelligent fuckwit, bit of an oxymoron (yes, I looked that up). That said, intelligent people can be arrogant and insensitive fuckwits, so no escape there.
Useless fuckwits, now there is a wide ranging category, I think back to my training and watching some of these trying to master the art of weapons training. I was in despair that they were on the same side as I! You can have disorganised fuckwits trying to run your life, these tend to be immune to the consequences of their actions.
The thing is, when my mind applies this broad brush label to my fellow fuckwits, it is a sweeping judgment that takes no account of who they are, what their intent is, what they are going through or what they have dealt with. It is a judgement that I would normally keep firmly in my own head, no need to upset anyone is there?
My mind, your mind, is such a great place if you want to explore it and are free to demolish the ethical and moral boundaries that we usually have to adhere to. After all, we can't yet be arrested for having inappropriate thoughts, at least not yet.
My god, it would be like Tourette's, think of the movie What a Woman Wants, only with the gloves off.
Saturday, 9 March 2019
Dodentocht - The Training Continues
Since doing the walk back from work at the beginning of February I have managed to get in 5 other walks in the continuing build up. Each time I try to understand the impact on my body and mind so that I can try and be as best prepared as I possibly can.
The walks that I have done are
The walks that I have done are
- 1st - 16km Work to Home
- 2nd 19km Richmond Park
- 3rd 27km Antwerp
- 4th 30km home and back to Richmond Park
- 5th 39km home and back to Richmond Park (2 laps of park)
- 6th 29km Aarschot
In between all that I have changed my boots and socks.
Today I started at around 04:50 in order to get the walk done and not lose most of Saturday in the process. I had every intention of doing in excess of 40km but I started to get blisters in new places and I think I made the mistake of not taking care of my blisters from the previous walk as, once lanced, this small blister seemed to cause some discomfort. This was also a change in tactics from switching between pairs of boots, in this case I only had the one pair with me. The other thing I made a mental note of is that the ground I was walking on was mostly paved, ie hard.
There is something to be said for starting out before the sunrise, the silent streets, the heightened awareness levels. I was ultra aware when passing under bridges and through darkened patches, watching for threats. Once or twice a lone cyclist passed, but nothing else of note.
The route I took is one that I am quite familiar with, having run and cycled it many times. In essence it is my River Demer run, it is good to know what is coming up and, despite knowing that some stretches were quite long, it did not seem too bad. My route back took me towards Rotselaar and then towards Aarschot, this was following the main road and thus was not pleasant with lorries and cars passing at high speed.
In terms of food and water I took some yogurt covered nut bars and about a litre of water, my pack also had talc to dry off my feet and plasters. I wish had had a needle with me to pierce the blister and also some proper blister dressings cover the blisters up. Still it is a learning experience.
The next walk will be in the North East, although I am not too sure where I will go or the route to take. The Derwent Walk springs to mind, it has been a while since I have done that walk.
Sunday, 13 January 2019
The Dodentocht - Training Walk 1
The Dodentocht is an annual event in August in which those taking part walk 100km in less than 24 hours. It has been a desire of mine to participate at some point and, with the encouragement of my sister-in-law, who is also participating, I am now on the path to partake this year.
I originally thought that the Dodentocht was linked to a march of POWs during the 2nd World War, but when I look it up I can find no references to this. So For information check out these sites: Wikipedia and Dodentocht the official website.
I have decided to apply a logical, mathematical approach to training but, let's be honest, it will be an emotional and psychological feat to complete the course. I have a training plan, I have looked into my footwear and socks. I have checked out the amount of energy I will need and decided on mixed fruit and nuts (so far) to provide for my needs.
My aim is to build up my endurance over the next 30 weeks by going out each Friday and putting in the KMs. That in itself is a challenge not just in time but also to dovetail with my travel and work plans. Commitment is required, clearly!
Training Day 1
I work in Canary Wharf in London and live just next to Clapham Junction, approximately 10 miles. It dawned on me that this would be a sensible start point in my regime. Fridays make sense as I could recover on the Saturday.
As my working day drew to a close, it was already dark outside and I was beginning to suck the air in in anticipation of starting out. I ended up working over by half an hour, but that was not down to any nervous reluctance to start. I discretely changed my socks and donned my hiking boots. I maybe should have doused my feet with talc first, but I was not that prepared. I topped my water up and packed my gear. Saying my goodbyes I headed for the lift and down to the lobby of the building.
I had not read my map to get an exact route, nor had I set any kind of navigation in my phone or watch. No, my nav preps consisted of: Walk to the river, turn right, follow the river all the way to Battersea and turn left towards Clapham Common. I was worried about some of the areas I was going to pass through but, as it turns out, I needn't have been.
Canary Wharf is essentially a financial district full of suits and an ambitious international community of thrusting individuals, some of them quite rude it has to be said. I looked entirely out of place with my hiking boots, lightweight walking trousers, green Jack Wolfskin coat and Black Northface bag.
I reached the river fairly quickly and took a moment to reminisce as I saw the expanse of the Thames stretching for the far bank. As a young Naval Reservist I had often sailed down the River Tyne on our way out to commence a training weekend and I felt the cold windswept memories of those trips as the breeze touched my face Turning right, I now followed the river, keeping it on my left hand side until I could reach Tower Bridge.
During my military career I have been required to do a few, but not many, treks/hikes. The key to enduring and keeping able to function is the timely consumption of water and food. It may not seem important but it soon tells when you cover any reasonable distance in challenging conditions. It also helps if your team keep an eye on you as you do with them, but in that respect I was buggered!
The route, reassuringly, was alive with walkers, runners, cyclists and post work drinkers. I had carried out an assessment of the value of my possessions prior to setting out and, throughout the walk, I would run through the immediate action drills should I be confronted with some unsavory characters wishing to deprive me of them. You could never be sure.
I had started my watch to track the key stats of the walk, but failed to bring my phone charging cable and thus my phone was on its last legs early on. It was later to die and then my watch decided that it would stop recording my time/distance, a minor irritation that occurred just over half way through.
On the initial leg I was transiting through Wapping and Shadwell, away from the riverside due to the number of developments closing off the path for the privacy of those living there. More than once I saw signs urging passers by to keep quiet. My thoughts turned to the Blitz as I walked past old converted warehouses and cobbled roads. I wondered how it must have been during those horrific nights of bombing during the war. I also thought about the printing unions and their riots when Wapping was being closed down. I ended up, annoyingly, going down some blind alleyways. I was following some misleading signs but the diversions were not much to speak of.
There was something rather pleasing when I saw Tower Bridge come into view, it plays on the mind when you try and estimate how far you have come and where you expect to see things. I had not really orientated myself much over the numerous visits I have made, but this was to change.
I heard the klaxons sounding as I approached, these signaled that the bridge was raising the causeway. This was not too bad as I had planned to stop and refuel. I had 800ml of water with me and 1,000 calories worth of nuts. My back was already quite damp with sweat but my heat rapidly turned to chill as I waited to cross. I was only wearing a polo shirt underneath my coat, it is important to regulate the temperature and not to lose too much fluid, something I will have to be careful of for the longer distances.
Setting out, I passed a number of landmarks and, interestingly, I started to learn which order these are in. We had HMS Belfast, a veteran of WWII and the Korean War. I longed to feel the metal decks under my feet as I reflected on my service career, the many times I had stood guard on the gangway in port in such conditions as these. Naturally the Tower of London was on the North bank next to Tower Bridge. On the South Bank I first passed the Lord Mayor's building before getting to the Belfast. It gets a bit hazy after that but the Shard came next and then, surprisingly later and eventually the London Eye and Tate Modern. I had decided to have another pit stop when I got to the London Eye. On the way I noted that the Houses of Parliament and St Pauls are on the Northern side. I had also noted the Ministry of Defence and the Foreign Office on the Northern side as well. It seemed to take quite a while to get to the Eye but this was the 9km mark, just over half way.
The next phase was less certain, only because I knew that I would, at some point, have to move South towards Clapham Common. In the distance, I thought I could see the MI6 building and Battersea Power Station, but I was not sure. I did pass (presumably) the old London Fire Brigade HQ on the South side. I checked out the numerous maps on the lamp posts as I passed, keeping a lookout for Battersea Park, that was my waypoint to turn in. I could not see it on any of the maps, but MI6 almost came up on me without warning. I knew I was approaching Vauxhall and that it should be there. At this point, for no particular reason, the Russian national anthem was humming in my head. I cast the building an inquisitive look as I walked by, but my focus was on the road traffic signs indicating that Clapham Junction was nearing.
I made the decision to turn South and follow the Clapham Junction signs. I had checked out a map and seen that Wandsworth Road would lead in the right direction, to a point. As I walked on I came across the Wandsworth Road Overground station, this is one of the stops my train passes through on the way to work. So I paused to take stock and, following another sign heading towards Clapham North Clapham /Common, I started to weave through some residential streets. This was quite a punt as I had no idea if I was heading in the right direction or not. My feet were also starting to tell at this stage so the last thing I wanted was an unnecessary diversion.
I 'burst' onto the main road connecting Clapham North to Clapham Common, instinctively turning right. It was maybe a few minutes before I realised how close I was to Clapham Common Station. Going visual with the underground station, I was firmly locked in to the last mile or so, a little relieved but now wondering if I had acquired a blister on my left foot. The ball of my left foot was feeling sensitive, but not yet painful. My water had run out but I still had my nuts (forgive the pun).
When coming down the home straight it is quite uplifting, but the physical assessment was already beginning in my mind. How were my legs, my feet? How much longer could I have endured? What point should I change socks? How many pairs would I need if I change them every 16km!
I stopped off at Tescos, just a 150 metres or so from the house. I had stopped the clock. 3 hours and an estimated 16.5km. My watch said 22km but 3.5 would be walking to work. Google maps indicated 16.5, so I settled for the lower figure. The average speed of 5.5 was a good rate and included stopping, so if I could maintain that kind of average it would be okay. As the distance progresses it is unlikely to stay that high, but one must try.
Post completing the first walk (my target was 12km), some friends have said they want to train along with me, which is great. Things can be a lot easier when you have some company.
Day 2 - Richmond Park is due next Sunday, all being well!
I originally thought that the Dodentocht was linked to a march of POWs during the 2nd World War, but when I look it up I can find no references to this. So For information check out these sites: Wikipedia and Dodentocht the official website.
I have decided to apply a logical, mathematical approach to training but, let's be honest, it will be an emotional and psychological feat to complete the course. I have a training plan, I have looked into my footwear and socks. I have checked out the amount of energy I will need and decided on mixed fruit and nuts (so far) to provide for my needs.
My aim is to build up my endurance over the next 30 weeks by going out each Friday and putting in the KMs. That in itself is a challenge not just in time but also to dovetail with my travel and work plans. Commitment is required, clearly!
Training Day 1
I work in Canary Wharf in London and live just next to Clapham Junction, approximately 10 miles. It dawned on me that this would be a sensible start point in my regime. Fridays make sense as I could recover on the Saturday.
As my working day drew to a close, it was already dark outside and I was beginning to suck the air in in anticipation of starting out. I ended up working over by half an hour, but that was not down to any nervous reluctance to start. I discretely changed my socks and donned my hiking boots. I maybe should have doused my feet with talc first, but I was not that prepared. I topped my water up and packed my gear. Saying my goodbyes I headed for the lift and down to the lobby of the building.
I had not read my map to get an exact route, nor had I set any kind of navigation in my phone or watch. No, my nav preps consisted of: Walk to the river, turn right, follow the river all the way to Battersea and turn left towards Clapham Common. I was worried about some of the areas I was going to pass through but, as it turns out, I needn't have been.
Canary Wharf is essentially a financial district full of suits and an ambitious international community of thrusting individuals, some of them quite rude it has to be said. I looked entirely out of place with my hiking boots, lightweight walking trousers, green Jack Wolfskin coat and Black Northface bag.
I reached the river fairly quickly and took a moment to reminisce as I saw the expanse of the Thames stretching for the far bank. As a young Naval Reservist I had often sailed down the River Tyne on our way out to commence a training weekend and I felt the cold windswept memories of those trips as the breeze touched my face Turning right, I now followed the river, keeping it on my left hand side until I could reach Tower Bridge.
During my military career I have been required to do a few, but not many, treks/hikes. The key to enduring and keeping able to function is the timely consumption of water and food. It may not seem important but it soon tells when you cover any reasonable distance in challenging conditions. It also helps if your team keep an eye on you as you do with them, but in that respect I was buggered!
The route, reassuringly, was alive with walkers, runners, cyclists and post work drinkers. I had carried out an assessment of the value of my possessions prior to setting out and, throughout the walk, I would run through the immediate action drills should I be confronted with some unsavory characters wishing to deprive me of them. You could never be sure.
I had started my watch to track the key stats of the walk, but failed to bring my phone charging cable and thus my phone was on its last legs early on. It was later to die and then my watch decided that it would stop recording my time/distance, a minor irritation that occurred just over half way through.
On the initial leg I was transiting through Wapping and Shadwell, away from the riverside due to the number of developments closing off the path for the privacy of those living there. More than once I saw signs urging passers by to keep quiet. My thoughts turned to the Blitz as I walked past old converted warehouses and cobbled roads. I wondered how it must have been during those horrific nights of bombing during the war. I also thought about the printing unions and their riots when Wapping was being closed down. I ended up, annoyingly, going down some blind alleyways. I was following some misleading signs but the diversions were not much to speak of.
There was something rather pleasing when I saw Tower Bridge come into view, it plays on the mind when you try and estimate how far you have come and where you expect to see things. I had not really orientated myself much over the numerous visits I have made, but this was to change.
I heard the klaxons sounding as I approached, these signaled that the bridge was raising the causeway. This was not too bad as I had planned to stop and refuel. I had 800ml of water with me and 1,000 calories worth of nuts. My back was already quite damp with sweat but my heat rapidly turned to chill as I waited to cross. I was only wearing a polo shirt underneath my coat, it is important to regulate the temperature and not to lose too much fluid, something I will have to be careful of for the longer distances.
Setting out, I passed a number of landmarks and, interestingly, I started to learn which order these are in. We had HMS Belfast, a veteran of WWII and the Korean War. I longed to feel the metal decks under my feet as I reflected on my service career, the many times I had stood guard on the gangway in port in such conditions as these. Naturally the Tower of London was on the North bank next to Tower Bridge. On the South Bank I first passed the Lord Mayor's building before getting to the Belfast. It gets a bit hazy after that but the Shard came next and then, surprisingly later and eventually the London Eye and Tate Modern. I had decided to have another pit stop when I got to the London Eye. On the way I noted that the Houses of Parliament and St Pauls are on the Northern side. I had also noted the Ministry of Defence and the Foreign Office on the Northern side as well. It seemed to take quite a while to get to the Eye but this was the 9km mark, just over half way.
The next phase was less certain, only because I knew that I would, at some point, have to move South towards Clapham Common. In the distance, I thought I could see the MI6 building and Battersea Power Station, but I was not sure. I did pass (presumably) the old London Fire Brigade HQ on the South side. I checked out the numerous maps on the lamp posts as I passed, keeping a lookout for Battersea Park, that was my waypoint to turn in. I could not see it on any of the maps, but MI6 almost came up on me without warning. I knew I was approaching Vauxhall and that it should be there. At this point, for no particular reason, the Russian national anthem was humming in my head. I cast the building an inquisitive look as I walked by, but my focus was on the road traffic signs indicating that Clapham Junction was nearing.
I made the decision to turn South and follow the Clapham Junction signs. I had checked out a map and seen that Wandsworth Road would lead in the right direction, to a point. As I walked on I came across the Wandsworth Road Overground station, this is one of the stops my train passes through on the way to work. So I paused to take stock and, following another sign heading towards Clapham North Clapham /Common, I started to weave through some residential streets. This was quite a punt as I had no idea if I was heading in the right direction or not. My feet were also starting to tell at this stage so the last thing I wanted was an unnecessary diversion.
I 'burst' onto the main road connecting Clapham North to Clapham Common, instinctively turning right. It was maybe a few minutes before I realised how close I was to Clapham Common Station. Going visual with the underground station, I was firmly locked in to the last mile or so, a little relieved but now wondering if I had acquired a blister on my left foot. The ball of my left foot was feeling sensitive, but not yet painful. My water had run out but I still had my nuts (forgive the pun).
When coming down the home straight it is quite uplifting, but the physical assessment was already beginning in my mind. How were my legs, my feet? How much longer could I have endured? What point should I change socks? How many pairs would I need if I change them every 16km!
I stopped off at Tescos, just a 150 metres or so from the house. I had stopped the clock. 3 hours and an estimated 16.5km. My watch said 22km but 3.5 would be walking to work. Google maps indicated 16.5, so I settled for the lower figure. The average speed of 5.5 was a good rate and included stopping, so if I could maintain that kind of average it would be okay. As the distance progresses it is unlikely to stay that high, but one must try.
Post completing the first walk (my target was 12km), some friends have said they want to train along with me, which is great. Things can be a lot easier when you have some company.
Day 2 - Richmond Park is due next Sunday, all being well!
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