It started so well. Each of my three four-mile easy runs this week were lovely, even the traditional Tuesday horror was heavenly due to beautiful, cheery sunshine, inspiring a zen-like pace. Being sunny may not sound like such a big deal, gentle reader, but you may be surprised to learn that since the new year began, I have enjoyed running in the sunshine on only four occasions. Considering I have been running four times a week, that’s pretty miserable.
With those three simple runs under my belt, I felt more than confident tackling my long Sunday run of 12 miles. After all, I’d run 12 before and I knew it wouldn’t be as hard as the near-death experience that was my 15 miler last week. How wrong I was. I started really slowly, my pace felt OK, but again when I got past the ten mile mark, my strength seemed to disappear. Maybe I should start taking more gels or sweets with me on these long runs. Maybe I should be eating more carbs the day before. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone out for a 13th birthday party at ten p.m. the previous night and ended it by dancing Gangnam Style with a load of parents who should’ve known better. Either way, I’ve got to re-think my strategy for next week’s 16 miler.
One thing I won’t be doing, however, is running in the Nikes above. These faithful friends helped to kickstart my running life back in May, led me around the Norwich half marathon and have been good companions on runs of all shapes and sizes since. But they’re old and causing me pain, so off to the great road in the sky they go – they shall run no more.
Sorry, I seem to have something in my eye…