Dragged my tired & weary legs off to ParkRun this morning. To say I didn't fancy it would be an understatement. Despite horribly tight and rather sore legs I Managed to stoop under 23 minutes, albeit by a solitary second, for the second successive Saturday. Yesterday I spent much of the day in a scene out of War Horse, firing a small white projectile into a wall of dense mist high on the Sussex downs over Lewes. Golf might not be the most strenuous activity but hauling a bag of ill-suited implements across 6.5 miles of undulating hills on tired legs simply added to Thursday nights' pavement pounding.
I may well take my 'step back' session in the morning. It's Brighton Half day but a few of us will meet at 8 to take on the East Brighton challenge. It may well be a slow one.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Whatever label you want to apply to this morning's aborted seafront run and the subsequent painful flog to Ditchling and back it didn't/ doesn't feel great. It might have been Sam Snead who said 'to quit between tee and green is more habit-forming than drinking a highball before breakfast'. OK so I'm still on the wagon but I know what he means; giving up quickly becomes a habit. Half the battle we face when we 'don't fancy it' is getting out the door. I'd spent much of my week worrying about tightening legs, pounding them around the town on Thursday night, dragging them over an extremely hilly golf course on Friday and pushing them as hard as I could at Hove ParkRun. I'd built a handy catalogue of excuses to wave at my conscience should I choose to pull the plug.
I got up, completed my pre-run rituals - wash, brush teeth, scoff breakfast, feed dogs, brew strong coffee, prep water bottle, pack snack, grab clean t-shirt - but the usual thrum of anticipation just didn't materialise. I drove to Brighton, pulling up opposite the marina as a much-reduced group (due to today's Brighton Half Marathon) set off. I sat and watched them go, put the car into gear and drove home.
I'd planned to run a 'shorter long run' (oxymoron? probably) last Sunday but ended up adding four miles. Today was to be the step-back session, a 12.5 mile snake run and no more. Now it would be even shorter, a ten mile slog across the downs from home to Ditchling Beacon and back. The dogs were thrilled as this meant they could come with me. An hour later I watched them trotting some way behind, heads down, tongues lolling, a mirror to their master. Not such a great idea now, eh?
We were treated to a glorious Sussex morning, all radiant sunshine and high, puffy white clouds. Skylarks frolicked above the battlefields, tiny Kamikazes swooping into the thick clumps of tough grass. Moody, Bieber-haired cattle munched silently, offering no more than a cursory glance as we plodded by. We passed plenty of fellow downlanders, walkers, cyclists and other runners, most clad in bright colours, wrapped up against a surprisingly cold westerly wind. I'd gone for shorts and favourite Two Oceans shirt but even the bite of cruel cold on bare flesh failed to fire my rockets. I'd not really expected that feeling of euphoria that can sometimes show up on a reluctant run yet I was disappointed when it didn't arrive. There was a resurgence of sorts as I turned for home, rough wind bullying me across the slippery slopes, mud splashing my calves as I rumbled through ice-laced puddles. Despite dipping under eight-minute mile pace for a while I felt lethargic, devoid of energy. Finishing was a blessed relief, my glutes, hamstrings, quads, knees and hips forming an ugly choir to wail their discontent. The pleasure I took from my hot shower felt fraudulent, un-earned. Yet I'd got out there, banked some miles, albeit shame that shoved me through that door.
Ten miles in around 90 minutes. Good miles on a bad running day.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Perfect anti-blah run at lunchtime, 5 untroubled, gentle miles to Blackcap and back, taking time to enjoy the watery sunshine and greet the curmudgeonous rooks hopping and cawing along the way.
I plugged into the iPlayer and listened to life-long Liverpool fan DJ Spooney rap lyrical with Lord Ferg in the comfort of his snooker room. I have to say the interview offers a very different view of the Great Man along with a few interesting stories, one involving Sam Allardyce and a bottle of Ribena, another of Lord Ferg's introduction to fine wines. Well worth a listen.
Tonight I'm in my @Rookmeister guise, live tweeting ('tweetcasting') the Alan Boon Cup semi-final between hosts East Thurrock United FC and my beloved Rooks. The locals are, in their own slightly rough and ready way, most charming, offering warm banter and warmer soup. Sorry Spooney old son, but this is where it's at me old China.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(21-02-2012, 07:16 PM)Sweder Wrote: Tonight I'm in my @Rookmeister guise, live tweeting ('tweetcasting') the Alan Boon Cup semi-final between hosts East Thurrock United FC and my beloved Rooks. The locals are, in their own slightly rough and ready way, most charming, offering warm banter and warmer soup. Sorry Spooney old son, but this is where it's at me old China.
Where and when can i follow this tweetcast? Take into account i've never tweeted and may lack the necessary tweeting facilities...
(21-02-2012, 07:28 PM)Bierzo Baggie Wrote: Where and when can i follow this tweetcast? Take into account i've never tweeted and may lack the necessary tweeting facilities...
You can just go to twitter.com/rookmeister, you don't need an account. Twittering rooks eh, who'dve thought it. BTW it's all over now.
(21-02-2012, 07:16 PM)Sweder Wrote: Perfect anti-blah run at lunchtime, 5 untroubled, gentle miles to Blackcap and back, taking time to enjoy the watery sunshine and greet the curmudgeonous rooks hopping and cawing along the way.
Good to see you bouncing back. Start that mental preparation for Sunday.
This makes me realise that I don't have any runs like this between Christmas and April. I only run three times a week, so every session is focussed on something, and tends to be hard work. Maybe I'm missing out.
(21-02-2012, 07:16 PM)Sweder Wrote: Tonight I'm in my @Rookmeister guise, live tweeting ('tweetcasting') the Alan Boon Cup semi-final between hosts East Thurrock United FC and my beloved Rooks. The locals are, in their own slightly rough and ready way, most charming, offering warm banter and warmer soup. Sorry Spooney old son, but this is where it's at me old China.
Where and when can i follow this tweetcast? Take into account i've never tweeted and may lack the necessary tweeting facilities...
As Dan said it's all over now. A shambles of a display seeing the Essex side cruise into the final, albeit by the misleadingly close Colemanesque scoreline of one-nil. Rooks now 'concentrating on the league' and the next match this Saturday, at home to, ah, East Thurrock United. Gawd blimey guv'nor ...
@Rookmeister will be back on his perch from 3pm GMT on Saturday. 'He' is working up courage to tell his other half that he plans to drive to Norwich for the Rookettes league match v Norwich City on Sunday ... *whistles* There May Be Trouble Ahead ...
(21-02-2012, 07:16 PM)Sweder Wrote: Perfect anti-blah run at lunchtime, 5 untroubled, gentle miles to Blackcap and back, taking time to enjoy the watery sunshine and greet the curmudgeonous rooks hopping and cawing along the way.
Good to see you bouncing back. Start that mental preparation for Sunday.
This makes me realise that I don't have any runs like this between Christmas and April. I only run three times a week, so every session is focussed on something, and tends to be hard work. Maybe I'm missing out.
It's not quite the bounce back I'd hoped for I'm afraid. I'm still somewhat listless and lacking in energy, enough to have scrapped my planned hardtop run tonight and maybe duck Parkrun on Saturday unless things improve. I've been on the cusp of a cold for a while so maybe that's trying to work itself out. There's a dull ache behind the eyes and a general stiffness in these old bones just now.
This 'listening to your body' lark flies in the face of my usual 'heads down, no nonsense, mindless boogie' approach. I'm mindful that the creaks and groans get ever louder. I'm old enough and almost wise enough to know that missing a couple of midweek runs won't hurt my overall fitness. So long as I'm back on the long trails on Sunday all should be well.
Check out the wonderful links offered alongside this horribly dated TotP clip.
*Nostalgic face*
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
