Isn’t it funny how a runner’s idea of paradise and a holiday maker’s paradise differ so much…I am slowly getting acclimated to the heat and lung-crushing humidity of Malta. I have yet to find a running club to join, it seems most want you to pay the yearly membership first before trying them out and our situation doesn’t lend itself to that at the moment so my runs are solo which is just as well because it is doubtful I could chat with all the wheezing and gasping for air I have been doing.
Alas trails also seem to be a rarity or the ones available are so damn technical that if your attention wavers for a second you will find yourself sprawled on the sharp rocks in a very unseemly manner. So far I have been able to recover from any trips and stumbles so no bloody pictures of flayed flesh to gross everyone out with.
This month I have been forcing myself out of the car or tent (yes we are sans abode) 6 mornings a week right at sunrise in order to try and force my legs and lungs to try and remember this thing they used to do called running. The hills are relentless so I have adopted the run-walk method to get up them and while it is not getting easier it is certainly getting a bit faster; I am now doing some of the more bastardly ones around 11 minutes rather than the 14 plus I was struggling with 2 weeks ago. There have even been a few strava segments I have conquered but they all seem to be mostly populated by Brits so they are facing the same heat and humidity issues I have.
All is not horrible though, yesterday and today’s runs didn’t suck. While I couldn’t have gone faster or further I didn’t feel completely drained at the end–yay, progress.
The Reims Marathon I had won entry to via Running Heroes doesn’t look like I will be able to make though–finances and fitness just aren’t there. Unfortunately the entry cannot be deferred or transferred–I did try to see if I could give it to one of my UK running club mates but the rules are rules and the directors aren’t budging