It is coming up to 12 weeks since I started C25k and I can no longer imagine life without running. It is said that it takes twelve weeks of changed behaviour to form a habit that will persist and I can vouch for this programme as being a life changer. This morning I ran 8.3k, or more importantly to a gentleman of my vintage, five Best of British miles, without stopping (apart from the ****ing gates, but you know all about them).
I set off from home, for the first time, with Lady da Truffe, as she set out on her W6R2 run and we did our 5 min warmup together. Then, she followed Laura's instructions and left me standing, as I furiously waved my errant phone at the satellites in the hope of persuading Runkeeper that there were at least two orbiting lumps of metal that would confirm my existence on the planet. A fix followed (GPS, that is) and I was underway. Now, it may have been macho masculine pride at being left for dead by my missus, or it may have been that I am still improving at this game, but I couldn't run slowly. I kept telling myself, "Slow down, you silly old b****r, this is meant to be an eight k run!"
When Gwendolen Runkeeper announced my first split k time it was 6.04 and I thought, "That is too fast for an eight k run, slow down." So, I slowed down, breathed deeper and relaxed and then I saw Lady da Truffe up ahead and in my excitement to catch up, even though she was on a walking interval, I must have increased my speed because as I passed her by with a wave, Gwendolen chirped up with my next split and it was 5.59/k, followed by a risible current pace figure of 3.46/k. Even when I am REALLY, REALLY excited I don't run at 3.46/k. I don't think I could fall over that fast.
Controlling pace is the secret, I know, I am always saying it to people on this forum, but I can't seem to do it myself. The next kilometre is downhill, so I suppose that is fair enough if it is a bit faster. "6minutes 22 seconds" says Gwendolen. What, how can that be? The next one is slower still at 6.33, but at least that can be explained by running in the very narrow gap between the thigh deep grass on my right and the head high maize on my left. I exit that field looking as if I have been sprayed with water from both sides, while I have a dry stripe down the middle of my clothing. I don't care, I am running and there is no one to see anyway.
Kilometres five and six are both on the pretty level, very quiet lane ( I saw nobody) and I strove to keep my breathing easy and less like a steam train and stop myself striding out, remembering the hill at the end of the run that almost brought me to my knees in week six. Keep something in reserve, I advise. Calm control is required. I consequently returned 5.51 and 5.54 for these two splits and resigned myself to the fact that I had gone off too fast and would never make it to the end. Then something remarkable happened as I returned to my normal 5k route, the next one and a half ks were easy, the pace seemed right, the legs just kept going with little or no effort. At last I was "in the zone".
"Six minutes, fourteen seconds" announced Gwendolen, for kilometre number seven and I thought " That's about right, old man. Well done" and smiled smugly at my self control. Okay, I knew the hill was coming and although I have not been beaten by it on a timed run, the prospect, as the last half k of my longest run to date, was a bit daunting. Sure enough it knocked my pace for six, but we will gloss over that , because I still managed to run it and was back on the level to take the applause ( there was a cat, honest) as I crossed the five mile finishing line in a Personal Best time. My first time, actually. My first time EVER, actually.
I ran cross country at school, forty years ago, but we never did five miles. But I do now. It's a habit, don't you know.
‘Mature’ runners - distance or pace?
Consolidation 4 - Pace Improving! 
