Vampires ate my trainers

I gave blood last night,  but I didn’t think through the consequences for today’s interval training run. It’s an absolutely beautiful day – cold and crisp and sunny, perfect for running – and I’m dying to get out there, but the nurse said I shouldn’t do any exercise for 24 hours.

I am quite tempted to go anyway, but I know I have a tendency to put running before sense so am trying not to do that this time. One day is not going to make any difference to the training. It’s Shrove Tuesday, so perhaps  I c0uld try interval training with pancakes instead: 5 pancakes at 10k pace, with 2 minute recoveries?

The blood-letting was fascinating.  It was held in a decrepit church hall, with queues of whey faced people and barking nurses. Like a post-apocalyptic triage hospital with unlimited tea and biscuits. My pint drained out in 4 minutes, which seems frighteningly fast. I wonder if it’s a sign of a healthy heart?  I am kidding myself that it is. I have now done some scientific research (thanks Wikipedia) and see that it will take 8 weeks for my blood to magic itself* back to normal. Just in time for my race, which was obviously the plan.

*official scientific term