The Runs on Dava Moor

The countdown speedily diminishes as the hour of the starter gun quickly approaches. Training is going well, still getting in an average of 30 odd miles a week, although finding the space and time for the ‘big’ runs is proving somewhat evasive.
Any road up, last week I took a night off from my athletic schedule and lined up a double bill of excitement, by attending the presentation of The Dark Knight Rises followed by an hour or so with Cameron McNeish, the similarity of the subjects being purely coincidental.
It had been a long long time since I had experienced the multiplex delicacy of Nachos with jalapenos and hot cheese dip, so long in fact that my guts just couldn’t figure out what it was, and on receipt hastily, tried to expel the authentic Mexican dish, just hours after touchdown.
The rumblings of trouble became apparent during the McNiesh Lecture and I purchased the Skye Trail in any case, but had no inclination to talk shit with him as he signed my copy.
Of course my planned Friday morning 7 miler was cancelled due to the other runs that I participated in during the night.
Come Friday evening, I was so riddled with low self esteem, as one does when one fails so badly, that I took myself up onto the remote Dava moors and ran, I just ran, along the track, that, from my googling indicated a long and winding road back down to the old Dava station and then from there back down to Grantown on Spey, home in time to watch my fellow Olympians . I would pick up the car in the morning.
It was hilly, very. I ran and ran, and ran by the right turn, takingthe wrong, and I ascended a dead big hill, the view back toward the Cairngorms towering above Aviemore and in front of me a blue blue horizon of sea and sky over the Moray Firth.
It was the stuff of epics, but it was the wrong road.
At the crown of the hill I turned back, I was 6 miles down and could see in the distance the glistening of the damp right road to Dava.
I realised now, that the steps that I had taken to replenish my depleted vitamins and h2o were meagre, meagre enough that is, for me to feeling the weak way that I was, but I ran and came back to the fork and right turn. I went for it and 10 miles in I crashed. The sun shone and the wind was strong.I plodded on, had to only walk, but after some Hell Gel, got a wee bit of a second wind and picked up a little, it was a long 3 miles back.
Lesson learned.
Do not run after the runs.


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