Boilers, kids and memories…

It’s been a full on couple of days.

Excellent day at work on Friday – despite the fact I was a bit of a donut not once, but twice – plus a corker of a gym session (3 miles on the treadmill – the idea was sprints which didn’t quite happen!) with my training buddy.

 

Quick beer (well actually it was two – but it was just the two!) after work and I arrive home to find my boiler is as dead as a dead thing on national dead day.

British Gas are called. They duly rock up early doors the next morning. There’s a lot of scratching heads and muttering going on. A part is ordered (has anyone ever had British Gas out where they haven’t had to order a part?!) and they vacate with a “we’ll be back on Monday afternoon love…” I have no heating. I have no hot water. This is a technical fail. Not quite of epic proportions, but not far off. At this point I make a phone call to a mate, bagsy the spare room, fling some stuff in my bag and head west for the weekend.

I decided that doing this via the gym was a good call. After all I was I need of a shower. Nice. And it was a good call. Four miles on the treadmill. Now the treadmill isn’t usually my favourite thing, but every now and again it’s quite enjoyable. Switch off and watch the telly for a little while. Excellent distraction tactics. That’s what I try and convince myself anyway… I think I’ve done enough treadmill miles to last me this month. Maybe for February too.

I’ll gloss over the other stuff – although it’s safe to say I’ve spent a fab weekend (in a warm house with hot  and cold running water) just hanging out with friends, playing with dustbin lids (kids people – kids – get with the program) shooting the breeze, putting the world to rights etc. etc.

I nicked the car keys first thing this morning. Felt full of the joys of spring and wanted to head outside. I’d been staying only a few miles from Boxhill which is where I used to live when I was a nipper so I decided a walk (or rather a run) down memory lane was in order. Parked up at the top of Boxhill (at the Lookout Point – up top) and headed off – no major agenda as to how long I wanted to be out for and where I was going – I just followed my nose.

I lived there from the age of five till I moved out at 18, so I know it really well, and to be totally frank it made my heart soar to revisit the place where I spent my formative years. It’s all changed so much too, so I spent most my time having a right good nose. So much so that I didn’t really notice how far I’d run. A whisker over 10 miles in the bank.  Happy days. In more ways than one.

Here’s my training log on Dailymile  Still not done the Running Free training thingummy. Hey ho.