And again, although this time I have more of an excuse.
The "again" applies to various things. The end-of-the-week collapse, for instance, though a combination of the start of the football season with its social commitments, and the weekend visit of some friends from Lancashire, are cast iron get-outs. Aren’t they?
Then there’s the small matter of yet another abortive long run. This one happened on Friday. I’d taken the day off and come home a day early, so decided to do the long weekend run on Friday morning. But energy deserted me again, and my 5 miles were stop-start. I was defeated by three things: the oppressive midday heat, the fatigue I still felt from Wednesday night’s repeated 8 mile run-walk in Wharfedale, and boredom. The standard canal run has become an uninspiring trudge. Combined with the other two things, the supposed 10 mile run never had much chance of happening. After 5 miles I gave up. Pathetic. My legs were leaden and aching, but so was my spirit.
I need to get a grip here. Next weekend is supposed to be the Burnham Beeches half marathon. It’s a hilly, hot event, and at the moment there seems little chance of getting round it. By now I should have been feeling sleek and energised. Since I made that resolution, three weeks ago, I’ve run plenty of hills, as planned, but I’ve somehow managed to find four more pounds to carry round the 13 mountainous miles.
Time for a line to be drawn in the sand. Yet again.
