An unfit week

(Note: this bit of blogging is about how I coped, or didn't, with my fitness and eating whilst we were having a fabulous holiday in France. Ignore the pessimistic digs on this blog about calories and feeling unfit - it really was a brilliant fortnight. For a few selected photos of our wonderful wanderings, click here.)

I spent most of the week after the Wroxham 5K feeling nothing whatever like a fit person. An insane amount of travelling across the Friday and Saturday (driving from Norfolk to Kent, a route involving the M25, on a bank holiday weekend not being something I'd recommend); a crossing through the Chunnel on the Saturday that was delayed by a couple of hours (BH weekend again); and 330 miles to drive once we actually hit France, meaning that we arrived at around 10:30 pm.

By this time, my old hamstring-and-hip problems were kicking in big time, aided by the preceding weeks of work at the PC. To my irritation, my left foot (there's a book in there somewhere) joined in, with a sharp pain as I walked - even now I have no idea what all that was about.

Our village was a beautiful, quiet little place, and the gite was great. I'd jokingly said "I'll jog to the bakery for the breakfast each morning" and I did - but it was such a tiny distance to be non-existent. And the foot hurt. And no way would the sixty seconds' worth of distance run (which is about what it was) have compensated for the croissants / pain au chocolat / brioche / Danish pastries that were usually consumed on my return.

Finally, a week after the race, I very gingerly set out for a very slow run, which I estimate was a bit over a mile in total, down to the chateau at the end of the village and back. Sore ham, hip and foot. Hmm.

Meantime, we were enjoying the sort of activities one does in France. Smorgasbord - bread, cheese, pate; wine tasting; biscuits; Nutella... Any thoughts where this might be going?