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 Argh. That was tough. I'd not run since the beginning of January for various reasons that include these:

• I went on holiday for a week
• I don't get home until about 8pm and it's dark and I don't know the area
• I walk for 40 minutes every day. That has to count for something right?

But I have Plans for running this year and so I need to get out there and get running. I planned to run last weekend but that never happened for some reason and so I told myself that I'd run after work in the dark after looking up a route online.

Of course I got in this evening and came up with these excuses:

• Cheese on toast and coffee is more fun than running.
• It was -2'C out and the forecast said it would be better to run in the week.
• Back home club nights were Tues and Thurs so if I started on that schedule here maybe I could keep to it.
• I'd procrastinated enough that it was now almost 8:30pm
• Cheese on toast was seeming really good and I think I just heard a gritting lorry go past.

But I then said to myself, "If it's before 8:30pm still I'll run." and I checked the clock and I'd guessed wrong and it was 8:27pm and somehow that was enough for me to get changed and once I've started to get changed I have never not run. It's odd how it sometimes takes all sorts of bets and deals with myself to get out and go for a run (and I do love running) but getting out the door when it's late, dark, cold, and you're unsure of the route was never going to be easy.

The run started off stupidly well with my legs wanting to charge off down the road like terriers after a paperboy but I knew that that is a false eagerness and when the slumbering cardiovascular system wakes up after about 30 seconds you will pay for any over-eager charging off.

So I headed off down the road that's part of my commute and then off into unknown territory I'd memorised from the map. Anyone who knows me would have a sense of doom at this point and they'd be right. I dutifully turned right at the roundabout and knew I was on the right track but then, a couple of miles later I found myself on the main road near the station which I wasn't meant to come to until later.

And so began the exploration of various cul-de-sacs and alleyways that felt more like a mapping exercise (I had my phone on me tracing my route) than a run. Looking at the trace of my actual route compared to the route I was trying to follow it pretty much shows that I got almost none of the route right until I got back to my commuting route (which I only really found thanks to the fact there were road signs pointing to the station.

The running went well although my legs are tired and are finding going downstairs difficult already. The phone is saying that it was 6.88mi in 1:05:25 but I think that all the stopping and starting and doubling back meant that I ran faster in general (after all these years I'm fairly confident that I was sub 9min/mi).

I'm very glad I went for that run.

Now for cheese on toast.