THE GOOD BUCK

It’s that most wonderful time of the year. When I get several days off work. And, to steal someone’s tweet, “Let’s not forget what today is really all about. A (selfless) man who helps strangers. A man who died and came back to life. HAPPY DOCTOR WHO DAY!”

That’s enough of the seasonal crap.

I had a bit of a to-do the other day at the gym. It was a storm in a teacup over a parking space. How ridiculous is that? The point of it being, when the big angry chap said “Have you got a problem with that?”  I just tutted and walked away. Usually in such situations it’s me that’s full of rage and up for it. On this occasion I was no more than mildly irritated, which is my default state.

It’s not the incident, or even me not engaging, it’s the sudden loss of confidence. If I’d have tutted and walked away rather than get into a fight over such a trivial matter that would have been fine. Walking away because it wasn’t worth getting into a fight, and being scared I was going to get beaten up, that is all together a different matter.

Even if I never have to fight I need to feel I don’t have to worry about it. Just for my self-confidence.

Bah! As part of my training plan I entered a 10 mile race for today. On Wednesday I thought I’d best find out where I was running. This involved tracking down the confirmation email. Not an easy task as I ordered it on the old computer and it’s not showing on this one. I finally tracked it down on my ‘phone (which is where I’d forwarded it from my old computer for safe keeping. Then completely forgotten about. Genius.) Yep, 10 mile race, at Stockport. I double checked my training plan, goal for the week: ‘Race 5 miles (30 min) or 10k (40min)’. D’oh!

A pox on the French and their new-fangled silly-arse measurement system!

I was still going to do it, even though it was pointless (I run a 10 mile course most weeks just to keep my hand in) and set my alarm for it this morning. I got up, and dressed, realised it was raining, freezing and blowing a gale and sacked it.

This has been a momentous week; I finally cracked the 3 miles in 18 minutes barrier, then the day after (on tired legs) set a new 10 mile PB on the way to pissing the 12 miles in under 90 minutes task. And I tied my hair back for the first time since I had it all chopped off.

To qualify that; I did about 6 minutes warm up (½% gradient) then straight into 10 mph (6 m/m) on the level. I didn’t stop to catch my breath just took the gradient off and whacked the speed up. For the first two miles I was going amazingly well. I was breathing OK, and it was all going suspiciously well. I had to check to make sure I’d got it at the right speed. I was managing so well I was getting cocky and thinking about knocking off 4 miles or so, to prepare me for next week’s challenge, 5 miles at 6m/m. Then about 2.1 miles it hit me. Like a brick in a sock. Then it was just grit your teeth and don’t give in. Extra kudos is due as after the 3 mile sprint I didn’t just stop the running machine, flop and wheeze, I slowed it down to 6.5 mph and got my breath back on the hoof.

Anyway, I did it. On a flat treadmill, but I still did it. 10 days ago I was wondering if I was physically capable.

Ha!

Pain is just failure rubbing salt into the wounds.

In other words, I’ve still not cracked the 3 miles in 18 minutes. The training schedule started this week, if I’m to fit it in to the races I’ve booked. ie, the big goal for the end of one week is a 10 mile race at a 6 m/m pace, another is a half marathon, etc. This week should have culminated with me doing a nice easy 3 miles at 6m/m.