Glastonbury: the best rest

I couldn't decide whether to make this post about my actual time at Glastonbury, or whether to try and link it to running (easier than you might think), orrrrrr just to briefly mention how drunk I got for 5 days straight and move on. I've gone for the latter - mainly because my parents like to read this blog and I don't want to burden them with images of their youngest daughter being an absolute DEVIL in a field with her friends. So...

Everyone knows that Glastonbury is 1000000% the best festival in the entire world and tickets sell-out in a matter of minutes. I was lucky enough to get a ticket this year, as did looooads of my friends and we've been pretty bladddy excited ever since. I was very, very sadly a bit worried that I would get fat while I was there (LOL, christ I have something wrong with me) but walking across a mini-city of musical madness everyday did just about enough to keep my thighs from merging into one solid piece of flesh. Details shall be spared from the internet as there are too many tales to tell, but we drank a lot of wine/vodka/beer/pre-made mojito (Simone) and personally, I ate a LOT of shitty noodles and we all danced around like maniacs for the best part of five days. We all loved each other like never before and hugged and kissed each other lots. Total hippies...

FRIENDS!!!!

As a side note, the only time I was slightly below the line of 'happy' was when Simone saw the 'glastonbury running club' forming one morning by our campsite. Now, I know that I would've definitely politely declined, but to NOT EVEN GET AN INVITE was truly heartbreaking. Apparently the men were all very skinny and looked super professional, and bloody hell HOW DEDICATED?!?! But still, must promote my blog far and wide so I get invited to these little festival get-togethers. Even if I was still a hungover mess...

The two reasons for my hangovers...

So, back to the running. After a triumphant 45 minute 10km the day before I packed my life into a rucksack, I was feeling excellenttttt. My head may have swollen slightly, especially as I have the Gloucester 10km in a fortnight. Despite still feeling a bit sleepy today (I got back the early hours of Monday morning), I whacked on my trainers and decided to head out for a run. I dropped my glasto-depressed boyfriend at the train station so he could go back to London and went straight out. 

My aim was to do a good 4 miler, but as soon as I started running I felt the backlash of Glastonbury hit me like a train. It was 23 degree heat and I was wearing full-length, black leggings. As a definite fan of being as naked as possible, this was a huge faux-pas that I've vowed to never make again. I knew my legs were going to take a while to get going so I made it to Bitton cycle path, where they have a 5km route marked out - if I couldn't do a good 4 miles, I would at least do something good. Dramatically rolling up my leggings so I looked like I had fat knees (YAYYYY), I set off at quite a speed (for me, I still got overtaken by a 65year-old on a bike) and managed the first mile in 7 minutes......

Included this purely because my legs look long...ish

Approximately three minutes after this I lobbed my fingers down my throat and threw up what I can only imagine to be the vast amount of shitty noodles that I ate at Glasto. Weirdly, while this was happening, a reaaaallly old man walked past me and wolf-whistled. CHEERS MATE, super helpful. This spurred me on - I needed to earn that wolf-whistle - so I told myself to stop being such a pussy and 'its only 5 bloody km'. The route has every single 100m marked out on the floor - quite annoying when you're feeling like you've hiked across the Sahara Desert - but, being the thrifty optimist that I am, used them as 'sprint markers'. Hahahah, these were definitely not sprints, but they did make sure I kept moving. 

It seemed like a realllllly long time, but I made it to the end of my 5km route (there was a lot of spitting along the way, does being hugely hungover make other people spit?! what does it all mean!??!), I'd say in a 'respectable' time of 23.48, not too bad considering I genuinely thought I was close to death at more than one point... When I finished I was sick again (this time it was those really yummy beef 'space raider' crisps) and had an audience of three lycra'd cyclists - those bloody male cyclists. 

These photos are getting more and more irrelevant...

I did a VERYYYY slow warm-down back to my house, like slow as in I might as well have been walking, and then my sister picked me up in her car before I'd even got home. RESUUUULT. Overall it was about 11km (I think?!?!), and during my lower points (lol, like I was trapped down the Grand Canyon) I decided that WHO GIVES A SHIIIIT if I'm running like an elephant today - Glastonbury was one of the best times of my entire life, and if you're going to have a rest, it may as well be the best rest in the world. TA DAAAA

What more could you want in a weekend?!

OH and thank you to everyone who's Facebook photos I have stolen for this post...