|Not a chance of waking me.|
At 7:40am I woke up after cocking one eye at the alarm clock to discover that I was 40mins past the alarm time and10 mins late for an agreed start time for our Interval session, never mind not getting a coffee!
Out of the bed check outside the window, no sign of Conor.
"Ah!", methinks, "He must have slept in himself, no harm, I'll go down and ring him to find out where he is."
Missed calls, missed texts, missed Tweets, I think he got there before me.
Now I feel bad. Dragging him across the city for a run and there I am having a lie in.
A change of clothes that would make Superman jealous and I was off out the door hoping that he was sticking to the plan.
After a 15min Warmup we'd agreed to do repeats of 4mins down to the gate at Clarinbridge with 6mins recovery back to the church followed by a Cool-down.
Sure enough there he was, parked in Kilcornan, and running laps of the avenue.
I did catch up with him and the inevitable slagging commenced.
A fairly dismal day out and we got drenched.The session didn't last long. I was tired having had a very poor night with the kids back in our bed again, a couple of little niggles became an excuse and we headed back to the house for coffee.
The lack of results speak for themselves, I'll have to make up for this tomorrow.