My Running Rage

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What you see above are two pictures of my long run today. The first is the elevation map and the second are the lap times per mile as I ran along my 12 mile course.

Outside it was miserable. It was cold. It was (and still is) foggy. It is enough to drive any sane person insane. 

I put on my shoes, my clothes, my heartrate monitor, got hold of my iPod, made sure it was attached to the Nike+ sensor, chose the playlist, put on 305, nearly fell over in surprise when it found all satellites in less than a minute (the 301 didn't like fog and generally didn't like the cold weather, so wouldn't find any satellites on a day like this). I started running and within less than a quarter of a mile knew that today might end up being a tad of a struggle.

My legs were feeling heavy, my chest didn't like the sub-zero temperatures, my feet was okay, the music was good, but rhythm was not something that wanted to settle in my body today. I struggled for 7 miles before I found any form of pace... and then the pace was too fast (I was supposed to be doing 11 minute miles today!), but I was so thankful for some form of steadiness that I just carried on. I couldn't let this weekend pass without a long run.

After 2 miles I reached a section of road where there was no curb. There was no space on the side of the road... and I was at the mercy of drivers that I hoped could see me, but even more, I hoped would have the common courtesy to not drive to close to me. 99.9% of those that passed me did. There was just one person that drove me to the point of trying to melt into the thorny hedges on the side of the road and I came off it with no scratches at all.  Now, when I reached the start of this section, I wasn't feeling particularly like carrying on. The mindset wasn't there. My body already ached. But I carried on.

After 4 miles I finally entered a smallish village with curbs and friendly people that waved and let me know just how crazy I was for doing this. A few old ladies just shook their heads and carried on walking while a few older men offered me a pint to warm me up - I must've looked cold and thirsty and running at lunchtime when you are bound to come along people on their way to/from the pub, obviously made me seem like someone that would appreciate a drink.

I declined and carried on.

And then I remembered why I've not run this route before.

Because, at the start of mile 6, a HUGE HUGE hill lay ready to greet me. I started up it, had to take a few steps of walking, but by the time I was at the top, I was thinking that my legs will be stiff tomorrow. Definitely.

I carried on through another village, and then another... and finally I got to cross the M1 motorway again and I was on the right side of it to be close to home.

I stopped after 12 miles and took a brisk 200 yard walk to my front door where Andy was waiting, ready to help me with my shoes and make me a bowl of lovely pasta

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