I did manage to get out for a walk with the PRB (or should this be PWB?) on Tuesday, walking the lovely trails of Aranda and Black Mountain Bushland to have a coffee at the Botanic Gardens Cafe. (They have continued to supply 'free' jugs of water for patrons after their unfortunate hiccup earlier last year). It was extremely pleasant, especially sitting down under the sails over the lawns watching the lizards and water dragons sunning themselves.





As per usual, I felt better as I went along, and felt re-enthused to do the same the next day until I was up to running again. Unfortunately, it was not to be the next day, I was overly fatigued, and my attempt yesterday (Thursday, 3rd) was greatly aborted to a gingerly strolled 2km at a very slow pace, feeling extremely nauseous and, more worryingly, aware of considerable pain in my recently reconstructed left knee.





I did travel a more novel route for a change, which is always enjoyable, and gives me options for the future. However, I arrived home rather despondent, having moved very slowly over a very short distance, and the start to the year not auguring well.





Friday is Customs Day. My knee wasn't at all happy, hurting when walking, so my planned slow jog/walk of the course was in jeopardy. Arriving a little too close to the time for the start of the run, I was preparing to go off before the official scratch time, however by the time I lined up preparing to start my watch, it was time for the watch to start anyway.





With great joy, I saw that Peter D turned up, fresh from a vigorous round of chemotherapy to attack some vigilant cancer. He and I both started at the start of the watch, jogging slowly, preparing to walk as soon as we needed. the movement made me feel like throwing up, so I concentrated on keeping my head and upper body as steady and still as possible, while moving as comfortably as I could. The worst of the nausea passed within the first 800m, largely dissipating before the 2km mark. I fought the urge to stop and walk for this time, feeling that the farther I jogged, the sooner I would finish and be able to recover. Although not expecting to make it to the turnaround, I did in 17:38, just having been passed by Nick B.





In my usual form, I felt better as I went along, keeping my pace at a comfortable 7min/km and feeling much better at the end than the beginning. It was, all in all, a personal worst time for the course by a significant margin of over 2 minutes, yet I was delighted with the 'run' (I'm a little embarrassed by this term) and encouraged for more of the same tomorrow. I mightn't be 'good', but I am 'better' (take that however you wish!).