I'm constantly amazed at how much of this running lark is mental rather than physical. I sat up last night getting a new version of a web site for my local business association set up for launch today. As always, I had left it until the last minute and didn't finish until almost 3am, after which I just had to have some toast and some ice cream. Not, I hasten to add, ice-cream on toast. Hmmm - now there's an idea ...
Would I do this morning's Parkrun? Nah.
But I woke up at my usual 7:30-ish, lay for an hour and thought "Bo**ocks - there's no point ignoring it", so headed off to Parkrunland. St Andrews in a three-lap format. I started from the back as usual and made my way past the back-markers as usual. But half-way through the first lap, the most peculiar thing happened. Despite having had only 4 hours sleep (or maybe because I was still sleeping?), my feet felt light, like I was running on marshmallow, and I just kind of floated along. That stayed with me right to the end, and I did a pretty respectable 26 1/2 minutes or so. I'd have been happy to drop out at the end of lap one, and delighted to get round twice. Instead, this was probably one of the easiest Parkruns I've done!
How can this be? Maybe I was actually still in bed and dreaming. Maybe I'm not actually typing this blog. Maybe there was a cross-over from a parallel universe in which that guy Bolt can only stand and watch from the side of the track while I'm doing a run. Hmmm.
I'm now off to top up my 5x50 score with an hour long walk. Am I tempting fate? Heaven help me!