It’s getting boring. No, not running per se, but the debilitating stabbing pain in my chest when I start a run. Tonight it happened yet again, though like last night, I managed to run through it until it eventually decreased after about 2 miles (but in a 3 mile expedition, no great consolation). I’ve grown accustomed to the notion that it’s connected with food and the unhealthy elements thereof, but could it be exacerbated by the size and the timing of meals, rather than just their content? Over the past week or so, during which it’s been particularly persistent, I’ve been eating much more midday than usual. Meals. Healthy ones, yes, but more mountainous than the usual salads or sandwich. … …
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The phrase “lost a shilling and found sixpence” springs to mind. Tonight was my midweek longish run of 5 miles. It’s now almost superfluous to mention it but yes, I had my chest-ache. It began within half a mile, and I considered stopping and going back. I really didn’t fancy another run-walk-run-walk for 5 miles on a dark night. But I persisted. The pain was never quite bad enough to stop running, and amazingly, it had actually gone after about 3 miles, and I was able to finish the run feeling strong and determined. I actually felt good on a run for the first time in at least a week – quite unexpectedly. Spent some of the run thinking about … …
This is probably my lowest point since I started running. Tonight I almost didn’t bother going at all. I was tired and cold and thoroughly fed up with these ‘ribcage stitches’. I’d also raided the biscuit tin this afternoon and gobbled up about 20 of ’em before forcing myself to put the lid back on. Yeah, it was miserable. I wondered what the point was of getting togged up and venturing into the freeze just to feel frustrated, In the end I went because I recalled something that Hal Higdon said in one of his emails at the end of the first week’s training. I just dug it out, and is worth repeating here: There’s a difference between “training” and … …
A 10 mile day, but one marinaded in the misery of a week of pain and gloom. That sounds worse than it is. I’m confident that this chest thing isn’t a cardiac problem. It’s the irritating stitch-like ache that clambers round inside my ribcage like an ape in a suit of armour. Today’s instance was more depressing than those earlier in the week. Sunday’s run is the long distance run for which the midweek runs are supposed to be preparation. Arguably, it’s not that important if the weekday runs are not wholly successful as long as the so-called LSD run goes well. Today’s effort didn’t feel right from the start. Yesterday, for the first time, I did actually do some … …
I did the 5 miler this evening instead of last night in the hope that the chesty syndrome would have worn off (it usually takes 3 or 4 days). No such luck, though strangely, I did enjoy the outing nevertheless. The discomfort didn’t stop me until 18 minutes, an unusually long time – so perhaps it’s on its way out again. Once it starts though, I can’t shake it off. Tried running taking it very easy; I was almost running in slow motion at one point. Still no good. Despite all this gloom, I found myself relishing the dark solitude of the lanes as usual. Tonight was cold but not frozen, and moonless. There was something intensely invigorating about the … …
Supposed to be my long midweek run (5 miles). Curtailed to 3 and a bit, and that was a stop-start 3 and a bit. That other bloody chest pain again. It doesn’t hurt a lot at all, but it just prevents me from running for extended periods. Beginning to have my first serious doubts now about whether I’ll make the London race. Should I go for a longer slower build-up by making Chicago October 2002 my first, then following up with a deferrred London in 2003? I’d really like to run the London marathon: it could be my only chance to whip that Haille Gebrselassie’s ass good and proper and show him what the Brits are made of… (A man’s … …
Last night, doubled up in pain with the old stomach problem. Almost weeping with the agony of it. Everything was off. There would be no marathon for me this year. To round off the misery, my right foot was also throbbing with pain. Felt like an old gout problem. Neither of these had troubled me for many months, and both turned up again on the same night. Then this evening, still feeling delicate, I put on my gear and ran 3 miles and felt pretty good at the end of it. Had a few mild chest spasms, perhaps from the uncontrollable flood of chocolate biscuits and peanut butter yesterday. Could the pain be a fat-intake thing? Yesterday I had a … …
Another landmark today: 9 miles. It put up a bit of a fight. Not a frantic fist-fight; more a kind of sluggish wrestling match in which no one was ever likely to get seriously hurt, just, well, inconvenienced. I persuaded an incredulous M to drive me to a point exactly 9 miles away, where I disembarked with a sense of some foreboding. The car sped off again, and that was that. There was only one way to get home, and that was to take a deep breath and start running. It was a good day for it. The recent cold weather has passed for the moment, though it was damp and foggy. The run took me along a fairly … …
3 miles. The freezing weather continues. Unsure of the temperature but my car windscreen was iced up as I left the house, and I spent the run staring ahead through clouds of breath. My pace seems to have settled down to roughly 12 minute miles, though I will waste no energy on worrying about time. At this early stage, it seems far more important to continue building endurance, stamina, muscle, resolve and fitness, and losing weight, than worrying about the whereabouts of small, and pretty arbitrary clumps of seconds. I marked my “feelgood factor” score down slightly this evening because I felt a bit tired. Maybe this is connected with the late night I had last night, or just a … …
Another frozen lollop around the block (current temperature is 0 degrees), this one spiced up by taking place in pitch darkness. 4 miles, 52 minutes – deliberately slow in these slippery conditions. Urbanites like me tend not to take much notice of the moon, but in places like this, it becomes suddenly important. I’ve happily done this run in the evening before, but never in total darkness. The only illumination was the fuzzy incandescence of the ice beneath my feet. The pace slowed right down as I travelled the back lane stretch (twice). Not even an occasional car to light up the lane. It was a strange cocktail of fear and a deep sense of liberation from something. I don’t … …