My legs

Big ole bunch of us pre-Sunday long run

11.01.2015
Day 272

Sundy long run, but, for me, truncated as I had places to be, things to do. I managed 8 miles averaging 8.30m/m. But that is marathon place, so will need to slow the long runs, when they get longer, to 9m/m throwing in a few 8m/ms to show fatigue who's boss along the way.

Leg pains and waves of self pity: a fairly typical and familiar symptom of too much running, walking considerable distances late at night, shivering with cold and in unsuitable shoes and insubstantial tights, and the old problem -  not enough sleep. Going out late, fuelled only by wine and peanut butter on toast, running on legs that ache from yesterday's race, I was never going to have a positive experience today. None of the above is the recipe for marathon success. For a while I ran with a woman called Nicky, who looks to be a similar age to me. She's gunning for a 3:30, having achieved 3:40 in the past. It is clear that an ambition to knock 13 minutes off my PB is a vaulting one, and today's low spirits make it seem impossible. It doesn't help that following a lunch in town, and an afternoon sitting listening to samples of poets shortlisted for tis year's TS Eliot poetry prize, my legs feel like they should be on the body of an 80-year-old woman. The aching does not bode well for future high mileage.