Sweating it out

maj4 maj2 Maj1I made it about 4 days into our beach holiday before I put my running shoes on. I wasn’t itching to get running, just pootling about on the beach with the boy while waiting for the pain from my cruciate ligament to dull down.

Still, it wasn’t in the forefront of my mind until we took the bus to Soller, a lovely north Majorcan town we had been to a few years ago.

maj5

I took the photo above on the bus around the Lluc area. That was when I realised I had to get my feet into the mountains.

I knew of  a dirt track connecting our resort (Cala St Vicente) to Puerta Pollensa, probably no more than a 5k run, and a 5k run was what my body was feeling up to. I found out later that it’s called the Siller Pass.

At about 10.30am I hit the first hill and my heart was pounding, which is usually the case if I’m out of condition. It’s always in the first 10 minutes of running that I get thoughts of doubt “you can’t do this, you’re going to fast, slow down, stop, turn around, walk it out”, but it passes.

Siller1

Once  I got over the first hill, it was a classic trail run. It was hot though, and I used every opportunity to stop and take pictures or drink some water. In the photo above I stopped to briefly think about a wee detour to climb up the hill in the foreground, before agreeing with myself it was a daft idea.siller2

I pushed on, before stopping again to take this picture (above) from the midpoint on the Siller Pass. Puerta Pollensa is in the distance.

10 minutes of downhill running took me to the end of the trail. I looked back up at the Pass. It was getting hot and I really didn’t feel like doing it all over again. But I was now in Puerta Pollensa. The easiest option would be to take the road back instead.

It was a bit of a mistake as it was much longer route. Plus, I ran out of energy AND I ran out of water. I started to get a pounding headache which seemed worse with every stride & a couple of times I thought I might collapse. But the middle distance muscle memory kicked in to my legs and they just kept moving. Not fast, but a solid pace.

I stopped a kilometre shy of Cala St Vicente to remove my seriously sweaty t-shirt. I had made it, a bit messily and a bit slow, but with a fair amount of willpower. I put on my favourite running track, put on my shades and attacked the last hill like a man possessed and then I opened my stride to clatter into Cala St Vicente at full pelt, the sea breeze welcoming me back. Back to the beach, and back to running.

Screen shot 2013-08-09 at 14.07.08

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About RennyRambles

Running, rambling, cycling, swimming and scrambling to my heart's content. Happiest on a trail, with some jelly babies in my pocket.
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