After scraping myself out of bed at 7am this morning, I made it through another five kilometres before starting the working day. I’ve run twenty kilometres in the last four days. That sounds a bit mad, doesn’t it.
I’m not going to lie - today was tough. I woke with a blocked nose (again!), and then had little energy during the first kilometre - wondering how I was going to do it - how I was going to keep going. Somehow I did though - fueled mostly by thoughts of how annoyed I would be if I didn’t keep going.
Thinking back, the reason for feeling a bit flat is obvious - I didn’t eat properly yesterday. I missed dinner entirely, and ended up eating scraps at perhaps 10pm.
After spending an entire run pushing ear-buds back into my ears the other day I have invested in some “running earbuds” - that have a hook that goes over the top of your ear. I can now listen to all manner of rubbish playlists uninterupted while I pound out the miles. I should have bought some ages ago.
I walked into town at lunchtime to stretch my legs. Of course the sun saw me doing that, and turned itself up to 11. Vitamin D is probably good for me, right?
Twenty kilmometres down. Eighty to go. I think I might actually be able to do this.
I’m paranoid about getting injured, and resist any temptations to go faster than I have been. Every twinge and ache causes me to worry. I have no doubt most runners become hypochondriacs - and will regale you at length about their various ills if you give them half a chance.
Me? I just have three daughters that laugh while telling me I’m old, past my sell-by-date, and falling to bits.