Bit of a stream of consciousness rant coming up. Sorry ’bout that.
I shouldn’t be this angry, I really shouldn’t. I have no right to it, no real reason for feeling this way. It’s probably going to be something to do with low blood sugar and frustration but I’ve eaten and been to the shops and I’m still, still fucking furious.
I could blame the bastard crash on the A14 this morning. Two lorries collided closing the road westbound and pushing all the traffic through Fulbourn and along Cherry Hinton Road. It was closed all day. I thought it would be fine when I left to go to the track this evening but it really, really wasn’t. The A14 was still closed, traffic was still piling up through the western part of the city and had I known about it I would have driven or even run the four and a half miles to the track. It would have been quicker.
I don’t know whether anyone was hurt in the accident. I really hope not. I’d like to find the
fuckers truckers involved myself and ask them what happened. In that parallel world where I’m a bad bastard, I’d beat their heads together until their ears bled. Whatever momentary lapse of concentration happened this morning resulted in accumulated days of lost time for everyone caught up in the aftermath. It was a pile of shite for everyone.
I’m being generous. It’s equally likely that one twat didn’t want to give ground to the other twat and the two twats twatted each other there and everyone else within a six mile radius. That A14 is a relentlessly joyless piece of tarmac. There are accidents and incidents (hints and allegations) causing delays nearly every day. I hate it and I have to travel along it whenever I’m going anywhere other than London or Essex.
I shouldn’t take all those incidents personally. That’s what concerns me. It’s irrational. So what that wasn’t able to get to the track on time for training tonight? I helped coach the track session of 3 sets of 4x400m and really enjoyed it. The athletes responded well and I was happy while it was going on. It’s always good when the athletes click into the session and give each rep everything. I find it inspirational.
I thought I’d go for a run after the session instead but I was getting hungry and I think that’s when my disappointment became anger. I headed out to Tesco after eating to pick up some extra bits and bobs. That’s when my iPhone decided it didn’t want to play the podcast I wanted and I completely lost my shit in the car. The fucking thing.
I could have gone out and done my own thing when I got to the track this evening. It would have been easy to do an easy couple of miles to warm up, then four miles at a decent 10k pace and then either cool down for a couple of miles or pile on the pain for a fast finish. Boom! That’s a good session if you can nail it. I had to see some people and missed them at the start of the session and really didn’t want to miss them at the end. That’s why I couldn’t leave until I’d seen the people I needed to see. I didn’t know when everyone would return.
Running is my refuge. It’s what I do to maintain my calm. I know that some of you would question whether I am ever really all that calm. Imagine what I would be like were I not running. I managed to keep that bloke at bay this evening by fucking off by myself and swearing at an iPhone and not at anyone near or dear to me. I vented and I still really don’t know why.
There were no breakthroughs here. It’s a fucking mystery.