13 mile mission accomplished. But it wasn’t easy. This was a strange run. Last week’s long run up-hill and down-dale, complete with heavy rain and throbbing blisters, was much harder than this but today’s was a different type of ‘hard’. Today the weather was mild and dry. So mild indeed that for the first time in this current outbreak of unfamiliar clean-living, I ran without a tracksuit top, and instead gave the watching public a flash of my new Hal Higdon singlet. So it was mild, and the route was totally flat. And yet it was still hard. My legs felt heavy and unresponsive from the start. There was no period during this run when I felt myself to be … …
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I feel like a child playing truant. This blister is still evident so again I’ve done a pretty frantic 3 x 10 minutes on the static bike instead of running. I have a 13 mile run to do this weekend (another new distance), so it seems wise to prepare well. Any aggravation of this wound would be certain to reappear on the long run. I always do the long run on Sunday but I might just switch to tomorrow (Saturday) if the foot looks better, and if I can avoid the temptation to drive the 250 miles to see my football team humiliated at home against lowly Cambridge United. The exercise bike seems to be effective. It keeps me in … …
I don’t think a blister can be considered an "injury", but I have one, and I decided to shift today’s planned 3 miler to tomorrow to give this… physical weakness a chance to clear up. Instead it was another 30 minutes on the exercise bike. No idea how its aerobic value compares with running, but it produced sweat in gratifying abundance, so I suspect it isn’t a bad alternative…… …
At last – a great run this evening. How long since I said that? I noticed a while ago that the success of a run was usually found to be inversely proportionate to the expectation – and so it proved again tonight. I just wasn’t looking forward to running 6 miles. No particular reason; just a general lethargy and a sense of pessimism about how I’d cope. Not that 6 miles represents any big deal anymore… Hang on… let me just re-read that last sentence a couple of times. Let me chew on it and suck every nuance and implication from it. And yes, it’s true. Running 6 miles is really no problem for me now, while only a few … …
You have to wonder about all this "running is good for you" stuff. Most of this log seems to have been a description of ailments and pains. This evening saw all the usual ones, along with a reawakening of Sunday’s blister, plus a strange ache at the top of my spine. To top it all, I actually fell over. I was on a short stretch that runs alongside, but in the shadow of, the main road. It’s a steep bank up to the road, and the streetlights don’t penetrate down there. In the darkness I stumbled on a big lump of tarmac that just appears for no good reason on the path, and down I went. No physical damage beyond … …
Je suis cream-crackered. 12 miles through West Yorkshire mist and drizzle today, from Flockton to Huddersfield, across the tops. Gasp, there’s nowt but bloody hills here — as I discovered some years ago when I lived in the area, and had the great idea of buying a bike. Murderous. The original plan to come up last weekend (when the long run was only 7 miles) was modified by a glance at the football fixtures. I realised I could delay for a week and combine the trip with the ever-uncomfortable sight of my football team in Huddersfield. Well it seemed a good idea at the time, and just worth the pain of an additional 5 miles of hill-running. It was a … …
Dull, dull, dull. 3 miles, and the usual aches. I don’t want to mention the problem anymore: it’s too boring and dispiriting. Tonight’s 3 mile training run happened. Then I came home and found M tucking into some noodley thing that I’d been salivating over through the run, so I ended up chomping through a plateful of lettuce and elderly mushrooms. Yes I’ve had better evenings. What about it….?… …
What a very strange evening. I didn’t get out till about 8 o’clock: a bit late when there’s 6 miles and a torrential rainstorm ahead of you. There’s a new suspect in the ongoing investigation into the baffling case of these sharp rib pains I get. Step forward… sleep. I haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks. Going to bed too late, waking too early. Getting an average of 5 to 6 hours. It struck me today that being constantly knackered can’t be doing me any good. Action required. Or more inaction, I suppose. The problem – whatever causes it – was back with a bang this evening; this time, even before I started running. I could feel it beginning … …
Finally managed to track down a copy of Runners World magazine in Chipping Sodbury, in a newsagent that should rename itself the Hunting, Shooting, Fishing and Farming Lobby. This area is manic in its desire to chase after things and kill them. I’d better be a bit more cautious on my jaunts around the back lanes, particularly on these dark evenings. Tonight’s affair passed off without major incident. Barely even minor incident. I saw (eventually, and just in time) a youth ride past on a mountain bike, and I heard an owl – and that was it for my 3 miles. I spent some of the run mulling over the headline on the front of the magazine I’d bought. “The … …
Backish on trackish. 8 miles and 95 minutes in teeming English rain. The chest pain followed the recent pattern: once I manage to get through the first 2 miles or so it almost goes. I say "almost goes" because even when it’s not massive, it’s always there, like some unwelcome guest hovering in the shadows outside, waiting for any opportunity to slip inside. But today it eventually became unintrusive enough to virtually ignore after a while. There were more important things to concern me today, like the aforementioned rain. It had poured all morning and early afternoon. By around 3 o’clock it had eased off and I knew I had to make a move if I wanted to run before … …