With everyone else gone, the parkrunning posse last night and Fast Legs this morning, Gdynia seemed even quieter than usual. I dragged myself up for a run, taking advice from those who’d run yesterday to run along the sea front and then back through the forest. Heck of a climb from the sea to the top-though possibly 9200 feet shy of my greatest elevation (quiet at the back) this year. I’d covered under 3 miles when on the way back, so u-turned and headed back into the woods, climbing again to shouts of encouragement from a Polish man who needs a better dentist. The way down was steep and just as I tried to speed up I saw my ****-travelling over me as I fell. A great scrape down my side, no blood but a definite bruisey bulge on my right calf. Oops.
Run done I lounged in the hotel, checking train times and booking hostels. I realised that my tentative plan of training to Krakow was stressing me out, involving two long journeys in just three or four days, so I sackowed Krakow, have two nights in Gdansk and three in Lodz, cutting out an 11hr and 5hr journey and adding only a 6 hour one.
Dave and I had wandered round Gdansk last night. It was against my better, or lazier, judgment to be hopping on a train at 7, but turned out to be a great idea, giving me an idea of where everything was, and letting me pick the hostel by the river where we’d spotted the youth playing Fifa last night as my next place to stay. Home from home.
The old town is quite something, cobbled streets in places, old Dutch merchants’ houses and amber merchants a-plenty. Today is dull, some rain, but not as cold as Saturday. I don’t think I’ll add to my tiny supply of clothes.