A health scare on Sunday morning put a halt to my programme for a couple of days. Without going into too much gory detail, I bled from - according to the doctor - a blood vessel in my upper respiratory tract. Like a nose bleed but through the mouth. Needless to say, I thought I was dying, and began to think about how to say goodbye to my children*. All, or most, of my strategy went out the window until I'd been reassured on Monday afternoon that it wasn't lung cancer.
Then my run this morning was almost cut short after a minute by a potentially nasty fall on black ice. Not to be put off, and desperate to road test my new running shoes, I took a different route. It was - and always is - worth it. The only other blip in an otherwise perfect day was reaching Tranent before I realised I had the Peas in the back of the car and should have been going to Ormiston. I wish I could remember what I was thinking about at the time, but I can guarantee it had something to do with food.
*the Peas
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