Away Day

Half-term for the kids, and we wend our way through wind and rain to Torquay, the English Riviera.  It's a cheap and cheerful hotel, but with really a remarkable set of facilities for the price.  The clientèle fall into two groups - the families who have come for the soft play, discos, kids club, swimming pools, large games room and ten-pin bowling alley; and the seniors who come for the bingo, the international standard indoor bowls rink in the basement, and the bracing sea air.

With breakfast and dinner included in the price, not to mention the close availability of a bar, I'm wary of undoing all my good work so far.  Luckily, the standard of the food is not terribly conducive to overeating, so I just need to take my chances to get some training in.  Shortly after we arrive, Em occupies the children in the kids pool while I take to the large pool for a swim.  The faux-Aztec theme is stylish, but the slightly cloudy water and array of discarded sticking plasters on the floor of the pool give away its true heritage.  Threading between the casual bathers is tricky, and I deliberately go slowly.  This actually proves a benefit, as I rediscover some level of endurance, and I'm fairly sure I end up going quicker.  Once again, I nearly - nearly - enjoy swimming.

On Sunday morning, the family rest in bed, and I get out the door at 7.15 for a run.  As I get to the seafront, anvil clouds skulk on the horizon, but today the sun has beaten them to the punch, and is peeking victoriously around the peninsula.  It's mornings like this that make you thankful for getting your arse in gear.

If Torquay has a beach, there's no evidence of it this morning, as the waves lap against the steps of the promenade. I set off south along the seafront, and before long the road peels away and turns uphill.  Hills are a new phenomenon in my running, but the chance to overtake a couple of fellow plodders impels me upwards.  Over the top I pass the sign welcoming me to neighbouring Paignton, and before long I'm back on the seafront, strewn with shingle and sand after the battering of recent days.  I stop to take a photo and report it back to basecamp (who helpfully points out that I appear to have stopped), before turning around and heading back along the same route.

The running is fairly free and easy, although an encounter with a local running club reminds me that I'm anything but fast.  Near the 4 mile mark and the end of the run, I have enough energy to put on a burst of speed, and cover the last 300 metres at around 7.30/mi pace, although I'm knackered and wheezing by the end of it.  It's my longest run yet, at a relatively slow pace, 9:24/mi.