I’ll always take the roundabout way
Bonsoir from the House of Plague. Nick has finally succumbed to Covid in a most thorough manner – he hasn’t spoken for about 3 days. Now if that were me it would be a notable achievement but he has less words, generally, than I do. Even so, I’m happy to see him sitting up and asking for things today. Luckily I’d had the foresight to pack my nurse’s uniform, which resembles my ski gear in the most extraordinary way.
In other horrifying news, I have gone back to work. This week, I have been mainly saying “No, I won’t even consider transferring your DB pension, goodbye” on a loop, with the occasional added sprinkling of one of my many slightly bonkers clients to put a smile on my face. And one random person who saw my Lang Cats Homegames in September 2020 (the vintage year) and still thought I was an appropriate person to talk to, in spite of it. Fancy that.
In amongst all this worthiness, I have tested my knee with a short run. It was so good to put my running shoes back on that I was a bit of an emotional mess by the time I got halfway up Mont Caly, but the joy was short lived. Knee is decidedly grumpy and I suspect my 100km race in May is for the high jump. Nonetheless, I have my gimlet eye firmly on the two mountain races I have in July and August, so hill training is going to be the order of the day once my knee decides to play nicely again. Any excuse to head back to Snowdonia…and who doesn’t love running in the Pentlands in the rain, eh Alison?
Speaking of rain…no, just kidding. It’s glorious here and I’ve been out for a quick blast on my skis almost every day this week. My knee is more compliant on skis and I’m making the most of it. Tomorrow I have no client meetings and I’m going to ski myself daft. Which would make a good title for…something. I’m sure somebody clever will be along soon to tell me what.
