The Beast From The East Cometh.

"It's never going to be *that* bad", I said to James as the storm clouds amassed. "It can't be *that* bad". 

My career in meteorology is, most definitely, not assured. 

However, I have been having a real shitter of a day and if I don't go outside for a run I''m probably going to end up punching someone. I ran on Monday, but it was just a 30 minute jog round the Meadows, I'm due to run for 60 minutes today and, by Christ, do I need it. 

James and I then spend the best part of an hour being indecisive (due to the insane snow showers and the gusting wind) until there's a proper break and my overriding "fuck this" gene kicks in. I brought my wet weather/ stay dry and warm kit with me. What's the worst that can happen?

Safe to say that my eyes were so much bigger than my belly.  The photos don't really do it justice, but it was brutal. There were points when visibility was nil. I lost all feeling in my fingers within the first 5 minutes - guess which genius forgot her gloves?

We managed just short on 45 minutes and, when the snow stopped being thoroughly apocalyptic, it was quite a lot of fun.



Please note the beard icicles :)


Yes, that was fun, but God, it was really hard work, 


Gx

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