Went out for another cautious run today. Knee has been fine after Thursday's tentative 5k, so thought I would go a little bit further today and see how it went, without pushing it too far.
What a miserable experience.
Knee felt fine, no issues at all, but my fitness has somehow deserted me altogether. I felt like I was running through the La Brea tar pits carrying a mastodon on my back, inhaling lava.
I managed 6k and was so glad it was over. Normally by the end of a run I feel I could go on for ever. Two weeks ago I ran 18k and felt tons better than I did today. Not only that but I was running on a pancake flat trail. I have a hilly cross country 10k in a weeks time and would have struggled to do another 4k today let along over difficult terrain. I have a Half marathon the week after and all I could think today was "imagine you have another 10 miles to go..." might as well have tried to fly.
My knee still feels fine. I'm not particularly achey anywhere. It was just... like being back in W2 or 3 of the programme unable to even think about long distances.
I'm fairly sure this must be largely psychological. I was only on the injury couch for a week or so. I know the only answer is to keep on getting out there and doing easy runs, and know that I could equally well go out tomorrow and have the best run of my life and this be a thing of the distant past. That would be nice certainly.
I do know all this, and yet it just feels like an enormous kick in the... err, teeth.
Funny thing this running. And by funny I don't mean funny haha, but funny complete crap.
Don't even feel like reading any running books to console myself now. May go and listen to some Morrissey and Joy Division records.