Well, yesterday was a bit of a failure. Went out with the intention of doing 40 minutes, barely managed 20 before it all fell apart, calf muscles were aching, the gremlin sat there telling me "I told you so", and my feet turned to depleted uranium, ended up walking home despondent and wondering whether I could go on. After all, I'm just a 55 year old fat bloke, what on earth possessed me to think I could be some sort of athlete? Weekly weigh in also went badly, my week away resulted in me putting on stupid amounts of weight, and despite a week of "being good" I'm still a kilo heavier than I was 5 weeks ago.
This morning then, got up having made sure I was well hydrated (drank about 5 litres of water yesterday), had a bottle of water before I went out, conscious that I hadn't had a proper rest day as such, just wanted to take it easy and get round. Aimed for 5k, just to be sure I could do it. No personal bests, no records, pace a bit slower than usual, but hey- I got round, 5.5km, 37 minutes (was going for the 40 but misjudged my route and didn't fancy running down a narrow path with nettles both sides!).
I feel like I've fallen off the wagon in many ways lately, what with not running for a week, over indulging on holiday, then the sudden crash when my daughter went back to her mum's and I'm all alone again. Just hoping that I can now pick myself up and get my body and mind to a better place.