Got my new Forerunner 205 today. It's been less than a week, but I've really missed it. Now before I completely diss the Forerunner 50, it does have it's advantages. Firstly you don't need to prance about trying to get a signal, it works from the first step. Secondly, it's got a footpod, so you can train according to cadence. Thirdly, the battery last for about 12 months. And that's it. It's as accurate as the grown-up versions and provides the same information (in a round about way). But the screen in tiny, the light doesn't stay on, you can only display two fields, the timer starts from the moment you go, the footpod clicks, you can't map your route and the memory only holds seven hours of training. All is not lost though, as I'm definetely going to schedule in some cadence training runs into my speed plan.
Well today's weather brought all the delights of that Scotland has to offer. I barely slept a wink last night, as I thought the windows were coming in. Torrential rain, sleet, snow showers and gale force winds caused havoc on the roads. Anyone with half a brain (the vast majority of Garscube that is) would have bowed out of training, but not me. My colleagues already think I'm slightly unhinged, but when they saw me leaving in my running gear, that took to a whole new level. Most farewells were a variation on: "You're NOT going out running in THAT". If it wasn't for the fact that Wee Ann had text me earlier to see if I was going along, I might have been less inclined. My inner office leaves me ignorant to the outside world.
There was a grand total of 18 (out of 120) runners out tonight. I thought it was pretty good show, considering the conditions. Packs (which involved sole runners) were clumped together, as coach Lesley was adament that no one was out by themself. In my group, I had the advantage of being the only person who knew the route, so everyone had to run with me. Te he.
It was a nice eight-miler over Maxwell, down Canniesburn, past Donald Dewar Centre, Alderman, Lincoln, GWR and home to the bridge. As the horizontal sleet was stabbing our skin, the idea of pacing was thrown out of the window. It was just about getting your head down and trying to survive. I lost count of the amount of cars that sprayed us in puddles. The gang started to split up after the fourth mile, so there was a bit hanging back and regrouping. Nevermind, it's about character building, right? I think everyone should be proud they did it, but even more proud that they had the balls to start it in the first place. The hard-core strikes again. I best not tell anyone that I was wimpering in my soggy clothes all the way home. And I'll make sure that Marco spares you the details of his various points of chaffing %-)
Finished the 8 mile route in 1:10:25 with an average pace of 8:49. Really not bothered with the result, as I'm just pleased I got the miles in my legs.