Most inconvenient. How am I supposed to train?! I'm in Nicosia for a couple of days working. Or to be more precise: one day working, two half days either side spent shuttling backwards and forwards on aeroplanes. They ought to move it a bit closer to my house (or perhaps more sensibly, have more than one BA flight per day!), which would reduce the journey time markedly.
Anyhoo, either way, I'm in Nicosia. Decidedly THE WORST place in the world to go running. Well, the worst place in Cyprus, at least. I shall however be a brave soldier and go out for a jog anyway. So if I'm never heard of again I've been run over by a Greek car.
Last time I came here I almost caused a diplomatic incident by going to look at "checkpoint charlie" to Northern Cyprus, accidentally crossing the line, and then not being allowed back over to the Greek side again, because I didn't have my passport with me. After 10 minutes of arguing, they got bored and let me back in. Fortunately for these purposes, I am decidedly un-Turkish looking. Unless they have an enclave of pasty faced ginger ones with northern accents somewhere east of Istanbul.
I shall endeavour to steer my run away from the checkpoint. Getting run over by a Greek car is one thing... last time I got runover by a Turkish tank, my pants were pretty much a write off.
And finally, I never reported back from Friday's run. It was OK. 8:56 pace average over 20 miles, with lots of sneezing. The manflu didn't however kill me, so let's count that as a qualified win.
Anyhoo, either way, I'm in Nicosia. Decidedly THE WORST place in the world to go running. Well, the worst place in Cyprus, at least. I shall however be a brave soldier and go out for a jog anyway. So if I'm never heard of again I've been run over by a Greek car.
Last time I came here I almost caused a diplomatic incident by going to look at "checkpoint charlie" to Northern Cyprus, accidentally crossing the line, and then not being allowed back over to the Greek side again, because I didn't have my passport with me. After 10 minutes of arguing, they got bored and let me back in. Fortunately for these purposes, I am decidedly un-Turkish looking. Unless they have an enclave of pasty faced ginger ones with northern accents somewhere east of Istanbul.
I shall endeavour to steer my run away from the checkpoint. Getting run over by a Greek car is one thing... last time I got runover by a Turkish tank, my pants were pretty much a write off.
And finally, I never reported back from Friday's run. It was OK. 8:56 pace average over 20 miles, with lots of sneezing. The manflu didn't however kill me, so let's count that as a qualified win.
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