I’ve neglected my running over the last 20 years, primarily because I hated it. I posted a long time back about a section from Mark Hines books about the respect for new runners. That’s the hardest bit. Not the guys who work hard to do 10 miles, the guys and girls who can barely make a mile but push, red faced, into wind and lock their mental demons away to achieve something spectacular for them.
Well I’m past that, I can comfortably run 8,9,10 miles at a turgid pace, so I’ve no excuses. I’m enjoying the thought of running, the pride of achieving and the pain after, but I’m really struggling to see myself as ‘a runner’. I plod along, I get where I’m aiming (usually) and then I get home, disappointed with my pace, my stats, my route. Anything but satisfaction that I’ve done a session.
Today saw me complete my longest run to date. A whopping 13.56 miles. I say whopper, it’s only half the distance I need to do in Paris in 2 weeks. I made it ok, with a few breaks for a chat with dog walkers or to take in the ambience of the canal. Running on half a flapjack and 250ml of water was ok, but I felt ill at mile 12 and when I checked the mirror at home, I was covered in salt marks. I’m assuming running on empty and not drinking enough was foolish but I needed to see where I could get to.
So, the positives;
- No blisters
- No calf pains
- Half distance done
And the negatives;
- My hip flexors are killing me
- Foam rolling, I’m useless at it
- Only half distance done…..
Could be a long day in Paris, still it’s a lovely city.
Taper in full effect I’ve eaten everything in sight today and won’t get a chance to drill my nutrition, but I’d welcome any advice. Any advice on the portaloo situation in Paris would also be gratefully received.