Week 1 of my 18 week marathon training for Loch Ness hasn’t been a staggering success. Tuesday’s plodding 5 miler in Guildford was to be a painful-but-necessary sort of inaugural dam-busting run. Flowing from that evening would be the purer athletic juices, as it. as it were.
And I’m sure it was of beneficial, but I’ve not been able to build on it. The very next day, I came down with a rare spot of illness. Nothing serious, just a sore throat and phlegmy chest – but enough to rule out running. Instead I managed a gentle bike ride on Wednesday, but had to skip Thursday and Friday completely.
The weekend’s been a bit brighter. The cold had pretty much gone by yesterday morning, so I chalked up a tentative 3 miles, followed by just 4 today. So only 12 miles for the week, but I’m finding it hard to get anxious about falling behind. In fact, I’ve given no thought whatever to what my training plan is for this one; the best idea seems to be to move from the assumption that it was a Hal Higdon 18 week plan, and instead realise that it was a Bob Glover 16 weeker all along. Looking at it like this, I’m still more than a week away from starting the proper training, so in fact this turned about to be an excellent time to become ill. All’s well that ends well.
It’s been quiet on here for a few days, largely for reasons mentioned at the end of the last entry: I need to crack on with my long-standing writing project. I’ve started with a critical re-reading of the material I put together last time I worked on it, and had to make some radical butchery. That took about 12,000 words out of the equation, which is rather sad. Still, this morning I managed to add a further 1500 or so, which has raised my spirits a bit.
