My old stomping ground, in bad socks

Today I decided to go back to my old stomping ground to train. Although I've enjoyed the change of scenery in my running, I rarely see anyone I know any more, unlike the good old days when I ran around the Uni and Coro Drive bikepath.

It paid off!

I planned to run from Teneriffe to the Regatta and back for a 25k long run. It took me until the Goodwill Bridge to see a familiar face, but just a couple of hundred metres along and Mike and Michael rode up behind me.

Closer towards the Regatta I saw Daz, still nursing his broken collarbone. I guess that since the weather was his optimal training conditions, even he couldn't resist a stroll in the sun. In almost the same spot on the way back, was Bryn (compression socks and all) and then along the city boardwalk, my old friend Shiraz.

I was on a high for a short time - but I still had 8ks to go. Although generally I felt fatigued, mostly, my feet hurt. When I finished my run I tore my shoes off immediately. When I got home I threw out my old, worn socks, which I blamed for my pain.

Now though, with the benefit of a few hours after my double run, I wonder whether I wasn't just blaming my tools for my less than desireable consistency over the last couple of weeks?

I guess I'll never know for sure, because the offending socks are gone...

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