I’ve been away for a few days – to Guernsey in fact. I went with all good exercise intentions. First thing in my suitcase was my running kit, the second thing was my goggles and swimsuit. Both remained firmly in the case! I’m not going to panic about my lack of training this weekend though as I am a few weeks ahead of schedule – and, as I have to run two 5kms on Saturday (the Park Run and the Colour 5k) then a 6.5 mile run on Sunday I figure the rest might be good for me.
Also, I didn’t sit on my butt the whole time I was there – Saturday we went on a trip to the island of Herm – and walked round it (about a 2-hour dawdle), then on Sunday I had the brilliant idea of going cycling.
I’d seen a booklet about these lovely cycle routes in Guernsey called the Ruette Tranquille – doesn’t that sound nice. And it was at first. Once I’d stopped shaking and got used to the idea of taking both feet off the ground, the trip down into town was lovely – flowery back streets, pretty cottages, no traffic – exactly what I think of when I think of “going cycling on holiday”.
Sadly, however, the experience rapidly descended into what normally happens when I “go cycling on holiday” – panic and the emitting of a faint high pitching whining sound (or as The Boyfriend calls it ‘constant moaning’).
You see because I don’t drive any more my road sense is pretty rusty. Combined with a highly worry-prone personality this means that as soon as I am confronted with more than one car in my eyeline I immediately have visions of all the ways I could get hurt in this situation – and I have to pull over to the side of the road and walk my bike away from the ‘danger’ – aka an old lady in a Morris Minor. Add vertical hills to this – I wasn’t on the nice flat bit of the island – and you just have a recipe for a highly stressful two hours. I did have an achy butt the next day though so I must have done something right.
Still it does confirm my view that running is definitely the best sport for me – which is kind of handy I suppose.