[Now with 100 followers! ... and how long has my hit counter not been working?]
Hadn't run in 5 days before Sunday, due to a series of medical problems (the hamstring pull last week was not an issue, not being able to swallow was). Sunday's plan was to just get in some miles. It was 20 degrees below normal yet again in this winter that wants to kill us, so I was bundled up as I headed out and I expected to pull off layers. The first 12 miles were at a relaxed pace, 9:30 miles or so and then it became much more difficult than it should. I removed some clothes, had a bathroom break and then headed out for more. Reluctantly. I was talking to myself already, saying how upset I was going to be if I bailed that early on an easy run. I headed back out, but was slower, feeling a tiredness in my legs that shouldn't be there. At 18 miles, I was ravenously hungry, which made little sense to me, but got me back home looking for food - Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard was better supplied, but I had a banana and reheated some coffee - and then headed back out again. This was not fun. Each mile, I had to convince myself to do one more mile. Each mile, I had to ignore the runners who were passing me (while burning holes in them with my stare). Each mile, I had to ignore the tightening in my quads and back. I saw that I could still break 4 hours by a few seconds at 24 miles, so I tried to pick up the pace. 4:00:02. The last mile was possible only because it led to my back door. 25 total in 4:11.
It's time to rethink my training, yet again.
Going up the country
1 day ago