And Relax...

Holiday over, and back to work today. Boo hiss.

Still, I did have a fine time while I was away. Luckily, the weather held for the most part, so I was able to bask in bright, un-Scottish sunshine for almost the entire week. I've even managed to get one of those absurd t-shirt tans, where I'm the colour of fine mahogany on my face and forearms, but still a sickly, pasty white on my torso from the neck down. My arms and face look like I'm quite healthy and outdoors-y, but the rest of me looks a bit like I've been living underground for the past five years.

'Twas a bit of a hectic week, but I loved every minute of it. During the day, I was working like a navvy, lugging buckets of stone chippings, sand and other heavy stuff around for hours on end. And breaking big stones into smaller stones with a tiny hammer, which was surprisingly satisfying.

Me and my Dad are still (perhaps foolishly) entertaining the notion of running the West Highland Way, so there was a lot of running going on as well. My first day there, I flippantly made the comment that I didn't want to run for less than two hours a day - unfortunately, my Dad held me to that, and woke me up at six every morning for a two hour/two and a half hour run every single day afterwards.

God, but Pitlochry is hilly. Lots of beautiful scenery, but it's very up and down (and mostly up). High hills to tackle early in the morning. But it was lovely to run through wooded paths and plant my feet on bare earth rather than the usual concrete pavements I run on here in Dundee. Here in this city I count as home, I run the same course day in, day out - seven days in Pitlochry, we took a different route every time.

Also ran the furthest I've ever ran ever on Saturday. Three hours: up Ben Vrackie, then downhill towards Killicrankie, and back to Pitlochry. Ate a sandwich the size of my head, then ran another three hours (and four minutes) doing the same course the othe way round. Six hours of running in one day. I'm hopelessly proud of that, but at the same time I'm aware that it's impressive only to me.

At one point a butterfly fluttered before me and my Dad - kept pace with us for at least a mile or two. Quite touching, until I realised that, like all the woodland creatures, it had realised how slow we were going, and was probably just taking the piss. Not long after that, I swear I saw a fox giving us the finger.