February

[Sweder]

A tentative return to the local hills this morning.
In deference to my screaming legs I’ve given myself a further 24 hours rest after Sunday’s hammering, and it seems to have paid dividends. After shaking off the usual post-long run rust my legs reluctantly responded, warm blood eventually bringing stiff limbs to life. A stern test into a strong (40 mph) westerly wind needed more effort than I’d hoped, but overall five miles in forty eight minutes is par for this particular course so I have to be content.

For the first time in a long time doubt has pitched its tent on the outskirts of my training camp. A rather unpleasant can of wriggling worms was opened on Sunday; the little blighters have been gnawing away at my confidence ever since. It was good to spin the legs today and although there are still some residual aches and pains I’m about ready to don my rose-coloured spectacles again.

If the result of Sunday is that I take it easy on the Stinger this weekend that’s no bad thing. Moyleman told me that he peaked in the Stinger last year – his Paris run was therefore very much ‘after the Lord Mayor’s Show’, leaving him drained and disappointed. So, the Stinger’s still on, but it’ll be a case of running at my own easy pace with the lure of a full English breakfast, prepared by the boys of Steyning Grammar School, to keep me going.

After all, it's just another stepping stone on the long road to Cape Town.