Gosh, I leave writing for a couple of days and all sorts of things happen. We go to Nottingham to see Frank Turner, go to Solihull and put in our long run (9 miles) get back to work and then do a four mile run today.

So much for trying to keep the blog up to date. Like my attempts to do daily training, the writing slipped a bit – but all in a good cause… I was busy doing fun things instead.

Friday I went straight from work in Wigan to Knutsford to swap cars at Jude’s swanky place of work. A place called Booths Park, built in the grounds of a farm and what looks like a stately home. It looks like a great place to work, looking partly like somewhere you’d go on holiday and partly like a very modern university campus.

Then there had been an incident on the M6 near Stoke. Hopefully it was nothing bad, but it meant that I had a very pleasant drive to Nottingham via Buxton and through the Peak District National Park. All very beautiful and made all the more so for having some Frank Turner blasting away in the car.

We were off to see the very same Frank Turner on the second night of his UK arena tour. We saw him in Wolverhampton a couple of years ago and he put on an amazing show – but looking down on the stalls it looked like mayhem. This time we were standing, but there was plenty of space for a jump around and some old-man dancing (from me). The whole evening was very pleasant – enhanced by one of the tastiest curries I’ve had in a long time.

The only problem had been that I wasn’t able to get any training in on Friday. I’d taken my resistance bands with me, but some terrible traffic in Wigan and then a slightly longer than expected drive over the Peak District meant that I arrived at the same time as Lorna. Beer trumped exercise. As is only right and proper.

So on Saturday we grabbed some tasty breakfast at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, somewhere I hadn’t ever been before. Seems like a lovely place. We were heading back to Solihull where we were planning on doing our nine mile long run. As time marched on the skies got darker and the wind seemed to be picking up. By the time that we were heading out at 2:30ish it was very very cold and overcast. By the time we were four miles in, the heavens had opened and the wind was lashing over the fields and battering us. It was difficult. We were heading back into Solihull about 7-8 miles in and I just wanted to stop. Every pub we passed was like a dagger through the heart.

Still, we got through to the end – hitting nine miles as we were half way through crossing a road. At which point we stopped and walked back to Valerie’s. It was really very hard, but it felt great that we actually got through it.

One tasty steak later, and I was aquaplaning back up the M6 to get home before 10.

Sunday was spent mostly working and I didn’t get a chance to do the weight training that I’d hoped to do. I spent some time reading up on the next steps with the New Rules of Lifting, but a bug fix that I’d expected to take 45 minutes ended up taking five hours. No fun, especially since I’d promised it would be complete by Monday. So the training had to take a back seat, sadly.

Today’s been better. A day spent at the youth zone, sorting out the fingerprint scanners (long story) and the online booking. Things are hopefully coming close to completion there. If one day there is a post that reads “In the pub. Celebrating.” That’s probably me and Robert celebrating the software being signed off. Next week. Dear God, please let it be next week. (Actually, given the circumstances, it may be the week after!)

Oh and I did my four mile run. It felt like hard work, but looking at the times I was 1 second per mile slower than my fastest outside run, which was only three miles. So it feels like an improvement.

There was a good chunk of time when I felt like I was properly running. I know that I’m still quite slow, but it felt like I was pushing rather than pottering. It felt good.

Frank Turner, Wessex Boy, from Nottingham last Friday: