Running on Empty

I sometimes forget that I have limits, sorry that’s a twatty Pepsi Max thing to say. What I mean is that I spread myself too thin. I’ve signed myself up for the Tokyo marathon in February and I’m already obsessing about it. It’s the last of the Six Major marathons I have left to do and it’s just seven months away.

There aren’t many milestones on the way to Tokyo for me, I’m pretty much training all the time, I had a few days off after Edinburgh, but I was running the week after. I’m doing the Cardiff 10k and half marathon this year as preparation, and there is of course the ParkRun.

I’d put the 18th of July ParkRun in the diary as an opportunity to get another Personal Best, and aim for my first sub twenty minute 5k. I’ve been running fast so I thought I might have it in me, I did all the preparation the day before, ate lean, no booze, early night etc etc. Within the first minute of running my Garmin was beeping at me telling me that I was behind my pace, and I thought ‘Well that’s it, game over, I may as well just enjoy the run.’ but I tried to keep up the pace and eventually got it. I had thought beforehand that psychologically if I thought ‘It’s only twenty minutes! I can push it for that!’ but there wasn’t a thought in my pretty head as I ran. There was no point where it wasn’t tough, but in the last minute I knew I was on course for a PB and possible sub 20, but I could feel my speed slipping. Then a runner started shouting – for reasons unknown – “COME ON!! KEEP GOING!!” which actually did genuinely help. I crossed the finish line, stopped the Garmin: 19:36. I was happy, my legs went wobbly, I gave a weak assed cheer and the runner behind me shouted “KEEP MOVING!” I meant to say something witty and urbane but gave a strangled “Please stopping shouting at me…” I’d got my sub twenty minute 5k, I was happy but knackered (see photo). I jumped on my bike to dash around doing stuff and things.

I continued to have a happy and frenetic week until I woke up last Sunday feeling rotten. Instead of lying on the sofa and watching “The Towering Inferno” like any sensible person would do on a rainy Sunday afternoon I went out for a run. I felt dodgy from the get and nearly turned around, instead I carried on for five and a half miles. When I got back I was wiped out. I went to bed at 5pm and pretty much didn’t get up till 8 the next morning. Still don’t feel quite right and it’s meant that I’ve had to scale back the plans I had this week, which is probably for the best but I am still hoping to get out for a run on Thursday at least.