It is Sunday March 31st. Nine minutes ago I should have set off at the Bedford Autodrome Half Marathon. Instead, I am sitting in London, post breakfast bagel, with a coffee in hand, wondering what could have been…again.
I’m certainly not complaining. Running means a lot to me, but it doesn’t pay the bills. So when I receive a call at 3pm on Thursday, asking if I can work Friday-Tuesday, It’s a fairly easy decision.
It is easy to wallow in the another race you haven’t even started pity party. But having put in a solid 50 miles this week after two weeks off, I know today would have been unfulfilling in many ways even if I had gone to the race. I’ve stuck in a few MP miles during my runs this week, and they felt hard. I’m sluggish at the moment, towing too many bad dietary choices around with me. After ten miles yesterday morning, I just started to feel a slight twinge in the Achilles.
The last few months I’ve built my aerobic capacity well, but the speed work is lagging. These are facts, unavoidable. But they are nothing to be afraid of, I can work on this in the next two months and be in top shape come May. The base is there.
I would have lasted a few miles today I know, but it wouldn’t have been a great indicator for Liverpool like I’d hoped. It’s easy to see this last month or so as a disaster, but I’m becoming much more accepting of this as being the way of things.
I always remember the moment I decided to dispense with training ‘plans’ as being very liberating. This feels somewhat similar. Don’t get too attached to any one race, workout or session. The goal is long term, longevity is key. Running healthy for a long time, with joy.
It sometimes feels like everything I’m writing about is a setback, a failure of some kind to recover from. That isn’t the case, but even if it were, it’s no bad thing. It’s a great metaphor for life. This went badly, your plan…that’s not happening anymore, the goalposts have moved, adapt.
I’m enjoying the challenge. Happy running, O.