Well, following Friday’s can’t be arsed to blog wittering, I was sent out today with the double demand of a) running for myself and b) blogging properly. Words like “motivation” have been bandied about and I know when i’ve been told, so here goes.
The weekend was ace. Truly. It’ll take some beating. A jump on Saturday morning was a bit rushed despite taking 2 hours to get up. Well, the first lift was called upon the fog burning off and I was 5th on the list and thus ready for the second lift. But after 5 minutes in the air, London Air Traffic put a 30 minute hold on climbing above 3000ft so the plane came down to wait. So 20 minutes later, the first lift got kitted back up but one of them wasn’t ready so I got called. Just as everyone else was heading for the plane. Mmm, there’s nothing like 13 skydivers staring impatiently to ensure you get kitted up and checked in double quick time and it was thus I found myself taking off 20 minutes before I was mentally ready. Then I changed my mind in the plane about what exit to do and decided getting pushed out backwards would be fun. So I went for it. And it was. Fun, that is. Then the landing was good – waaaaayyyyy fast, skidding to a halt on the wet grass after another great dive.
And after packing, it was home, a spot of lunch, a ride on the motorbike for an hour and a half, load the car up and head to Cathy’s for a superb Chinese, a couple of pints, a bit of work on her house on Sunday, a quick spin on the mountain bikes around the marshes, a return home and all back to work today.
So, I remembered my running kit and after realising how much i’d decided to pack into the evening, as well as it already being 5.15, changed my 4.6 mile hilly route to a 4.2 mile seafront sprint a la Juneathon. But with the Ashford 10k in 2 weeks, I decided to set off fast and then sprint for a bit then slow it down, just to shock myself. So I set off, after about 4 minutes pegged it for 30 seconds, then ran normal speed for 2 minutes to begin to recover (no runners world slow recovery for me, oh no!), sprinted again and so on until I turned around. When I just set off normally then decided to up the pace to a level where I thought i’d run out of puff just as I got back to site. But on the way, I got distracted counting drunks below the sea wall (there were 18…at just gone 5.30! Hastings – home of the brave!) and realised my breathing wasn’t too laboured so upped the pace and sprinted the stretch off the seafront just for good measure.
And got back in 28 minutes dead. That’s right, 4.2 miles in 28 minutes. That makes my 45 minute target for the 10k look reasonable (there is one slope on the race route and I won’t pretend i’ll replicate a run like that on a course I don’t know, but hey, it’s promising).
And now, after far too much activity having got home, i’m off to bed. Upper body bits tomorrow, a hilly 4.6 on Wednesday, 6.2 of hills on Friday, a 4.6 hill next Monday, a seafront 4 on Wednesday and then i’ll rest for the race and see how I feel, I think. Hopefully fit and ready. If not, Steve might get some company yet on his way around. Not that i’m saying he’s slow, of course. Perhaps.
89 cars. A trace of rain.