Whilst a morning run is a laudible aim, I was reminded today that a certain minimum level of preparation is required if all is not to end in disaster.
Not fully awake from my reverie, I pulled on my running shorts, shirt, socks and shoes; collected my water from the mini-bar (- all so-far-so-good); and drove ten minutes outside the southern town of Pula to a mile-long, unbroken stretch of road alongside the beaches of Santa Margherita.
The route, from the Flamingo Campsite (- flamingos are present in the lagoons south of Cagliari) to the Spanish Watchtower, splits the beaches on the left from campsites on the right.
Mid-way through the jog I was reminded of one important piece of preparation that I had neglected before my run. The next few moments were almost sufficient to make Paula Radcliffe blush:
I desperately sought refuge in some bushes alongside the small, tarmaced road. Thankfully, both the ungodly time and slight rain ensured that no one was around.
Having derided bidets in an earlier blog, you will note that most running shorts contain no pockets for a handy stash of paper. There was no alternative; my drinks bottle was to serve an unfortunate dual purpose. It is for this reason that I will claim that my jog was curtailed: Re-hydration didn't seem a very attractive prospect for the remainder of the run.
As I made my way back, I passed a dead mouse on the side of the road. I wondered if I was at all responsable for it's demise. My guilt was assuaged by the flocks of goldfinch feeding on beachside thistles, thankfully clearly unaffected by my actions.
Alas. At least the 'experience' has given me a valuable addition (or two) to my pre-morning run checklist: Socks: Check, Shorts: Check, Shirt: Check, Sh... ... ...
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