Run 3 of Week 7 was a real struggle. Basics forgotten, too quick initially, lack of water before I ran. Everything went wrong-but my fault and a lesson learnt.
That was Sunday. I was so annoyed at my mistakes, I was tempted to go straight out on Monday night and put things right. I didn't, primarily because of the good advice on this board. I rested, intending to run last night. As it happens, I got stuck at work until way after dark so a two day rest it was. And a stinking cold...
Mrs B asked me whether I was seriously going to run. Was I mad? Yes. I am. Nice and gentle. And this is where I'll be if there's a need to go out later and recover a daft middle aged "runner" who doesn't take sensible advice. I'll be the pile of crumpled clothes in the middle of the playing fields being sniffed at by curious dogs.
Oh ye of little faith. The bunged up nose and streaming eyes meant that a gentle jog was the order of the day. Breathing fine after 5 mins, legs begin to stretch. At 20 minutes I realised that nothing was aching, thumping, throbbing or telling me to stop. I was cruising. Mr Johnson sounded pleased. With a soundtrack of favourites (I'm not sure the rather difficult Chinese post punk was conducive to a running rhythm on Sunday), Buzzcocks, Stranglers and Gay Dad (with the appropriately named Joy) saw me smashing into 28 minutes with energy to spare. And it seems to have sorted that cold.
Best. Run. Yet.