Just recovering from a rather less than satisfactory run this morning. I can't decide what exactly it was that meant that this was the first run I've had in ages which was really really hard work.
I started off in good spirits, looking forward to running in the frosty stillness of the park behind my house, knowing that I'd cleverly put my running gear on the radiator last night so that I would be toasty warm before I started. I have had three rest days. Well resting from running, but I didn't think that would make too much of a difference.
Togged up and ready to go, and put on an extra jacket (Christmas pressie) and found my gloves. Then spent the next 30 minutes haring round the house trying to find my band to keep my ears warm. It seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth, and so had any sensible looking hat that I could use instead. The temperature outside was -3 so there was no way I was going to risk getting frost bite on my ears. "Is it in the wash?" Mr R asked helpfully. So there I was, in the bathroom throwing every item of clothing out of the laundry basket onto the floor. And there was a lot in there as no-one in my house seems able to put washing on over the Christmas period. Standing surrounded by a mountain range of dirty washing, it occurred to me that I had washed my running kit, so perhaps my running buff might be in the clean laundry.
Ears covered, warm up exercises completed, jackets zipped up, I attempted to leave the house to start the 5 minute warm up walk. But no, Laura decided that she didn't want to accompany me on my run, so I had to unzip the two top layers to get to my arm band to sort my mobile phone out (and Laura, there was no way she was getting out of this run. If I had to go, then so did she).
At last I set off, but the pavements were like ice, and much as I admired Torville and Dean in the past, there was no way I could cope with skating along tot he park, so I opted to run on the side of the road, as there was not much traffic around, but that was just as icy, so I timorously walked up to the park and opted to walk on the grass, which was crunchy. Unfortunately frost on warm feet equals water, and pretty soon my toes were decidedly damp, and not quite so warm. Fortunately it was now time to start running, which warmed them up a little more. Soggy warm feet are better than wet cold feet I guess. (And why do my feet seem to get wetter when I'm walking than when I'm running???)
It was a lovely clear day but as I ran under the trees it felt as if it was raining. It was, the sun was melting the frost on the trees, so I was no getting wet from the head down as well as the feet up. By the time Laura said I'd been running for 10 minutes I felt like turning back and calling it a day. It would be my first run that I haven't completed, so something in me pushed me onward... then I had my hill... then my knees started to ache... then further on my calves ached... and I really wished I was home on my sofa. Somehow, despite the temptation to slow down and walk, I managed to continue running, but at quite a slow pace, and nearly cried with joy when Laura announced I had only one minute remaining.
As I arrived home Mr Razouski opened the door and couldn't quite believe how much I was puffing and panting. He started to laugh, but I think my face warned him not too.
This must have been my hardest runs.