OK, I know the "F" word is strictly verbotten here, but there is no other word that can be used to describe the first bit of this morning.
Wasn't really in the right frame of mind but headed off to one of my local parkruns anyway, thinking it might help me recalibrate. Unfortunately, it only managed to make things worse.
Got everything wrong. Allowed myself to get caught up in the surge of faster runners at the start and the inevitable happened...
Yes, so I got PBs for 400m, 1km, ½ mile and 1 mile, so that's kind of great in a way, but I bombed out at just over 1.9km; nothing left, in the tank, all gone.
The thing is, I knew I was too fast but it was just one of those ones where, try as hard as I could, I just couldn't reset my pace; no matter no consciously I slowed myself down, unconsciously, I kept speeding back up. There was only ever going to be one outcome and I left feeling mightily fed up (I would use a stronger term, but this is a family forum). I'd even managed to leave my wallet at home so there wasn't even the post-run pick-me-up in the cafe afterwards.
10 minute drive home. Feeling slightly more balanced and still fairly warmed up, went to the loo, had a glass of water and decided I may as well try to collect the missing kilometres with a light jog around the village.
36 minutes later, I found myself back at my front door having run a full 5k in one of my fastest times and trying to figure out where that had come from.
So, across the two runs, I managed just shy of 7k in 48 minutes, which I'm not going to complain about, but why did I have to make such a mess things at the start?