30 May 2011

Wouldn't you miss me?

A long weekend with no runs - too wet, too windy, too tired, too busy, or just completely lacking motivation. Finally the weather looked not too bad, and I could feel a now or never sort of sensation - the vague fear that if I didn't get out of the door and do my mandatory 10K I would never be able to call myself a runner again. There must come a point in one's life when it's clear that an activity, perhaps a very enjoyable, and essential, one, is never going to happen again. Of course: there are activities that have gone that way for me already. I can't allow running to go that way too. Can't risk that it might happen.

It was still raining, a little, but it stopped within half a mile. I got off my heels and onto the midfoot for a while: it always feels very awkward at first, when I am doing it with an effort of will, but then I get into the groove and it becomes more natural - still awkward, but a lot better. However, I am not going to risk wrecking my Achilles or calf muscles again, so a short distance is enough. Downhill to Rowstock I pick up speed, let it keep building, though without getting up on my toes and sprinting: the Watch registers 4:51 pace before I slow again, coasting the rest of the way to the roundabout. Marathon-winning pace. I kept it up for perhaps 26 yards.

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