From the mountains to the sea. From hiking to swimming. From fleece tops to bikinis.
And from lemmings to goats.
I feel like I've been on the road constantly for the past three weeks, ever since I went on leave. I've covered great distances by planes, trains and auto-mobiles. But not so great on foot.
The two weeks I spent in warmer climates can be summarized, more or less, like this, when it comes to training: I ran between 3 and 14 kilometres. I ran in the middle of the day, in agonizing heat, and I ran early in the morning, before the sun was up, feeling the chill of the sea breeze against my legs. I ran fast and I ran slow. And I swam. A lot.
The fact that my legs didn't see much running action was painfully evident this morning, when, tired from yesterday's long journey home and -stupidly- on an empty stomach, I stumbled through 20 km just, so to speak, to wake my legs up after their long holiday slumber. Predictably, it wasn't an easy feat. I have forgotten how to run long distance. A scary thought, considering my plans for the immediate future...