Running and therefore blogging seems to have turned into quite a struggle recently. I get to the 2k point and feel as though I can’t go any further. My body feels like lumpen clay but I think my battle is as much mental as physical. Running can be a tough nut to crack sometimes.
With only 9 weeks to go before the Great North Run, I can’t afford to be struggling with 2k runs, I need to take a grip of this thing. I set out this morning on a 6k route, started whining at 2k but pushed on to the final turn off point where I managed to persuade myself to take the extended option which brought me home after 8k. A small battle won, and one that must be built on over the next few weeks.
There’s plenty of inspiration around at the moment, Speedracer has just completed her first Ironman distance tri at Vineman after months of badass training, and Rosie Swale-Pope features in this months Runners World after completing her run around the world (well she hasn’t quite completed it yet but is back on British soil after running for almost 5 years). These are people who know how to tame the quitting demons!
While I may not be running very much I’m certainly getting in plenty of cycle practice on the Brompton – I’ve got to get some speed training under my belt as I now have competition at the Brompton World Champs, Emma’s Dave has thrown down the gauntlet and must be beaten.
I’m still struggling with that saddle though. It’s beautiful and all but it’s a weapon of torture. I have it from good authority that it will weather in time, moulding itself to my own personal contours, thereby morphing into the most comfortable saddle in the world. In the meantime it is leaving me with day long pins and needles – most disconcerting.
I had an appointment with the ortho surgeon last week about my dodgy back issue and I was grilled about possible neurological complications. One of the questions put to me was “Have you experienced numbness or pins and needles in the saddle area?” Well, what could I say?
I obviously answered incorrectly as I ended up flat on my back having my bits and pieces tickled with a feather! When a guy came into the cubicle with a gloved hand and a protruding finger, I leapt off the couch and backed out pointing at my Brooks saddle and begging for mercy. I avoided the internal interrogation but still have to go and have an MRI – it would be much cheaper to invest in a gel saddle cover.