RAMBO

Week seven of our 16 week journey into Boston training started more smoothly than usual.  Instead of blugeoning Q-Less into submission with my speed work out, I explained there would instead be a more equitable pushup penalty system.  Should the pace maker leading the interval bring the other runner in at either under or over the goal time, there would be a push up for each second we were astray.  If nothing else it would teach Q-Less to read her garmin at the half way or quarter points and calculate the split, rather than running as if her life or the race depended on it for the first two and flaking out for the last two.  Q-Less unbelievably did 'drop and give me ten' in the middle of Penlyn Pike, with out much of a murmur, with laughing truck drivers whooshing close by her ear.  I tried slowing down to a snail pace right at the end of my interval, miscalculating at the end, so also had to take a push up penalty as I brought us in several seconds ahead of pace.  The good news is there was no blood or profanity on the horsetrail this week, but plenty of strength training instead which can only be a good thing on the road to Boston.

The incredibly mild winter abruptly ended, bringing with it light snow fall for long run day.  Setting off on Forbidden Drive was a joyous thing - the light was casting the tunnel of trees with a Monet peachy glow,  and great clumps of snow were drifting off the branches and hitting Q-Less squarely on her forehead, so the gorgeous sights were punctuated by her occasional squeals.  We had an 'easy' 18 ahead of us and all was right in the world.  One of the most unique aspect of a snowy run is the change in the world.  The landscape is cleaner and brighter, suddenly light up and everything takes on a newly softened, muffled response.  The only sounds are a mild crunching from the snow, or the scuffle of some random squirrel darting through the undergrowth.  Q-Less and I were enjoying the slow pace that snow provides, the lack of propulsion from the slippery surface means you have to glide along a bit slower, and make smoothness your goal rather than speed.  The constant change in surface makes it harder to build rhythm but it was nice not to bother looking at the gps and just enjoy it for the sake of running.

Twenty minutes into the trail Q-less and I noticed how quiet it was, there wasn't a soul in sight.  I was relishing the isolation and sense of 'owning' the fabulous newly minted snowy landscape.  Q-less had other things on her mind.  Just as I had moved to America ten years ago, there had been a murder at Valley Green, and the rapist/murderer had never been caught.  Only a year ago they believed he had attacked a female runner again, but she had luckily escaped him.  Q-less shattered the quiet beauty of the scene by firmly announcing as lone female runners we should surely have 'a plan' should anyone threaten us from the undergrowth.  She followed up with the suggestion that one of us might fake a seizure, whilst the other one attacked him, and detailed precisely how we should attack our assailants' nether regions, eyes and vulnerable areas.  I quickly volunteered myself to take on the seizure role, eye rolling, frothing at the mouth and twitching all over seemed to be something I could probably pull off, having had regular practice at most of these behaviours in dealing with my kids. I suggested Q-Less use her kick boxing skills to full effect and take on the other role.  We discussed the likelihood of this working for some time, and then moved on to a secondary plan.  This one would instead involve us both roaring loudly like brown bears and advancing at speed with arms outstretched to make ourselves look larger and rushing the guy to the wooden fencing overhanging the creek until he turned and fled or got dunked in the Wissahickon Creek.  Feeling happy we now had a plan, we decided on code name RAMBO - if anyone suspicious came to close to us, either one would simply sound that code name and the brown bear plan would come into being.

Of course, despite scrutinizing every poor walker or runner on the trail, there was no one remotely suspicious that day, and code name RAMBO never got put to the test.  We were meeting a couple of the Real Housewives of Blue Bell for lunch, and contemplated a surprise greeting for Merciless that would enable us to trial our new Rambo strategy on her.  It was just as well that she was too fast for us, pushing her BOB at top speed she had eluded us; I think baby Berkeley would have probably outroared us and pulled faces on a different scale to the pickle episode had we ever reached them and put plan RAMBO into effect.  Still, there is always next week!