York  - Week 3

Supposed to be rest day but did a shitty run yesterday so decided I needed to punish myself today and do an extra run, nice and easy 4 miles along the coast.

Legs are tired and heavy and definitely should have taken a rest day but this week I'm going on holiday so should get extra miles in because no idea how often I'll run whilst away.

I'm an idiot, I should have rested.

I eat lots of mushrooms today, keep the diet going before teh inevitable holiday weight gain.

Day 1 of the holiday, we were up til about 3am drinking, I'm tired and ridiculously hungover when the alarm goes off for 7am and I'm fumbling around to put my running gear on.

I'm thirsty and hungry and the only thing in the room to sustain me is a pack of skittle sours and a half drunk glass of red wine.  I chuck a handful of skittles in my mouth and swig the remnants of wine, it's more than I thought and now I have a mouthful of sticky sour sweets and red wine mixing, not unpleasant if I'm honest.

Then head out for the run.  It's early and only the cleaners are around, the sun is just coming up, I'm still dizzy, hungover and tired and head in what I think is the direction of the beach.  I have a terrible sense of direction and without Google maps I'm fairly certain I would have got lost on a run years ago and been discovered 10 years later still running and looking confused.

I run along the beach pathway which soon ends at some shops and I make the decision to head down onto the beach, now those that know me know how much I hate sand but I'm committed now.  It's firm wet sand and decent to run on and I'm just doing 4 miles easy so it's fine.

I give the runners nod to a few passing runners, they don't reciprocate, I blame it on Brexit.  The time flies by and the beach surface changes from sand to a black rock gravel and I see the famous Maspolomas sand dunes to my right, I glance to the left and see a guy standing in the sea knee deep.  I admire his pink shorts, his pink flesh coloured shorts, he turns to face me, we lock eyes.  

That ain't no pink shorts, that's a bare arse, he's naked, he is swinging freely and I hurriedly look away.  Why is he naked? There are people about walking and I know my eyesight not great but I know a penis when I see one. That's a bit weird isn't it? Not that I know a penis when I see one but that there's a naked guy standing on the beach. I make a mental note to tell Gail later and carry on.....

Maybe 100 metres later and there's a guy coming out the sea ahead of me and walks directly across my path, now this guy is also naked and must have mistaken me for an old friend as he seems mightily pleased to see me.  I stare directly at the floor and wonder what's going on, a minute later another penis and this guy's standing arms aloft and for a second I think he's about to start doing star jumps, for the love of god I do not want to see that. 

I turn to head back and thankfully the return run is a penis free zone and then I spot the sign, the nudist beach sign, the one I ran straight past and never spotted, maybe they just installed it after I ran past 10 minutes ago? I'm both relieved and shocked and make a mental note to persuade Lily to come for a run with me later in the week and decide I'll not tell her, be a lovely surprise for her.

Now why is it that a nudist beach run is an entirely penis filled experience and not a single lady anywhere to be seen? Why are nudists always fellas? Whilst I have nothing against a penis or two (or three on this occasion), I've had my fill of them by just being a bloke and seeing my own on a daily basis (apart from the fat Simon years when this was nigh on impossible, read above...)

Off for an easy 5k and this time taking Lily, she seems very keen to head along to the nudist beach for some reason, but like me she's completely blind without her glasses so hopes aren't high.

As it was, it just one elderly fella standing in all his glory high up on the beach, we have a nice, easy run and chat about life, jobs, naked old fellas, naked old fellas fella's and mushrooms.

Yes that's right, I haven't forgotten about mushrooms and I'm pleased to say they have a healthy smattering of mushrooms at all three meal times. 

I've been doing a double breakfast each day, natural yoghurt, honey and a sprinkling of whatever seeds, nuts and fruit that's on offer but not the powdered, roasted corn, they caught me out with that once before.  You put it on your mouth and it instantly sucks all moisture from your entire body, coats the inside of your mouth and throat with powder and you cough up clouds of toasted corn for hours afterwards. Breakfast 2 is a couple of eggs, usually fried or maybe scrambled as I need the protein and some mushrooms.

Lunch is always salad and some cheese and a glass of white wine, the glasses of wine are huge here and I think two would drain a bottle dry.  When I say 'a glass' I naturally mean two.

Dinner is salad, maybe some pasta, mushrooms naturally and a large glass of red wine (or two) and the pudding table calls my name every night but by Friday all I've had is one very small square of carrot cake and fruit, lots of fruit.

And wine, lots of wine.

And cocktails, lots of cocktails.

It's Sunday.

It's long run day.

The most important run of the week when mara training.

I've got 16 miles on the plan today.

My alarm goes off at 7am.

I roll over and  switch it off.

I roll back over and go back to sleep.

No running today.

Decide on a rest day instead.

So it was a lie in til 8, then down for the daily sunbed wars, breakfast, listening to a league of gentlemen podcast and laughing away to myself and drinking cocktails.  Tonight's hotel entertainment is a Spanish club singer, I reckon it's going to be awful but entertainingly awful which I'm a big fan of.  She starts with a Bob Marley song, this is going to be superbly awful.  Then we get The Proclaimers, she's brave but she's misguided, then she starts with Spanish songs and the crowd are up.  In my eyes she peaked too early and I drown my sorrows in wine.

Oh and an important change has come over me this holiday, life changing you might say.

I've been drinking white wine.

But I am still eating mushrooms, three times a day.

And I'm eating a lot of plums.

All previous blogs are available to read HERE