It hurt.
I was slow.
The sun was burning.
But somehow I just kept going...I was absolutely not going to give myself permission to stop.
Yesterday I had a rough day. I was overtired from cycling hard then liming until the wee hours on the first day of my period. Then I took an antihistamine for the bee sting which was swelling up unpleasantly on my forehead, and that particular drug has never done me any favours in the energy department. I dragged myself around the whole day, jumping back into bed at the slightest window of opportunity, and cussing when I had to do daughter chauffeuring twice in the evening. I did at least get a lot of wrapping done and managed to eliminate the need for almost all further Christmas shopping which was a fabulous feeling...but when the time came for the crazy football lime, I had to decline. That's when I knew I had totally overdone it, yet again.
I also had it in mind that I'd have to run this morning, as it really was the last time I would be likely to be sober at a runnable time for the foreseeable future, and I really did need to get my 12k in....but on collapsing into my bed last night having yet again not made the sorrel and having to forcibly tear myself off Facebook, it wasn't looking too realistic. However, I slept well and when I woke up at 7.45am, running felt much more appealing than the supermarket...especially as having been open all night I wouldn't even get that first shopper advantage. I took my time, had my coffee and veg broth stuff captured from the steaming pumpkin, onion and ochra, a granola bar and a banana. I loaded up the drinks belt as I've now crossed the 10k-no-drink-threshold and certainly wasn't in the finest athletic state, and off I went.
I ran down Long Circular Road, feeling entirely out of synch with every step, then stopped to stretch before heading to the Savannah, not a whole heap faster. The first lap of the Savannah was inordinately long...it just went on and on and on, like they'd extended it somehow, or I'd fallen into a timewarp... I tried running on the grass to give my joints a little love, but that didn't seem to help too much. I think my music at the time was also failing to propel me. Although I enjoyed the Private Ryan mix of pop, Soca and Dancehall, it was somehow not distracting me sufficiently from the unpleasantness I was enduring, but when the 2015 Soca tunes kicked in at the start of the second lap, everything felt easier. I felt able to run a little faster, with more fluidity.
I just kept getting niggling aches and pains which were informing me I have some structural glitches which need fixing soon. I'm reluctant to go back to the Osteopath as I feel she'll tell me a Half Marathon is a really dumb idea... I haven't been back since I restarted the contraband Triathlon training! Maybe I could try yoga instead, it worked pretty well back in August...and more massage of course...that always helps.
By the end of that second Savannah lap I was ready to go home. Unfortunately home was a run through traffic filled Boissiere and up and over the dreaded Long Circular Hill. The burst of 'speed' had by now totally left me and I could possibly have walked faster than I was jogging; however, I chugged along like the little train that could and finally, an hour and a half later reached the end, with a strong, if not sprint, finish. I walked it out through the compound, I stretched, I even threw in some abs just for good measure then I jumped onto Facebook to proclaim my achievement.
It's funny how important it has now become to broadcast everything proactive you do. I don't have an app yet which automatically apprises my friends of every training performance, but still I regularly and eagerly post my achievements and somehow that makes them seem more impressive than my spaced out, aching body would have me believe.
I still have 9k to go to get up to the 21k of the half marathon. I did wonder along the road today if I could really do it, keep running for what's currently looking like 2.5 hours. It wasn't the most reassuring thought! But I reminded myself of today's less than optimal physical state, and also to ensure I'm nowhere near this state before the actual event...despite it being carnival season. Anyway, it's all a matter of determination. I've said I'm doing it, so I will. I'm sincerely hoping my training will pick my speed up, and I still do have a month to go. But even if I do it snail style, it still will be a huge thing for the volatile, fits and bursts, sugar dependent dancer that I was. I will have broken the back of running and those 5ks in duathlons and triathlons will seem suck eye!!
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