Yesterday I announced to anyone that would listen that 3k’s were the new half-marathon.
It’s just not true though.
A bag of chips and a bottle of Newcastle Brown still tastes like a sin after 3 paltry kilometres.
With that in mind I decided to dust off my long distance shoes and attempt another running commute. Attempt being the operative word because I’d prepared myself for one of those last week but got diverted by the pub and managed only 4k.
Today I had a little more incentive, the underground was still pole-axed with the strike fallout and my journey in on the train scored high on the “most hellish journey ever” scales. I was not in a rush to embrace public transport.
I wandered down to the embankment, slowly picking up my satellite signal and started running along the Thames.
I trogged on, ignoring pub invitation texts, choosing instead to descend into an anti-running mantra. This was my make and break run for next weeks Great North Run. My training has been lacklustre and I am no where near 13 mile standard, this commute was supposed to make my decision clear – run or not run.
What I think about when I go running:
Ughhhhh I don’t like running, I want to stop, I don’t want to run 13 miles, I’m not cut out for long distance running, maybe I could just stop now and try out this pub, it looks like a very nice pub but probably too nice to sell Stella, not that I only drink Stella, if I did the Great North Run I’d drink Newcastle Brown ale and folk would cheer as I ran and I’d be a hero.
Then I’d start again taking a slightly different route but basically ending 13 miles later with a beer in my hand and a medal round my neck and a new t-shirt for my collection.
By the time I’d quit whining I’d run 6km and it occurred to me that my breathing had calmed down nicely and if it wasn’t for all the whittering in my head I was almost having a nice time.
I passed on through Battersea Park, admiring the Buddha admiring skippers carried on to Clapham Common and arrived at Tooting Common slap bang in the middle of the night. Dark and gloomy and altogether just a little bit too spooky to navigate. I skirted the edges and called a halt to my run 12.5 kms after I started it.
Still not good enough to confirm I can manage the half marathon but at least I was still standing. I’ll try a proper long run at the weekend and make my decision then.
Short aside – This post is a little out of context now, it was written last week but the publishing was delayed by an administrative error on behalf of my web hosts who kindly forgot to renew two of my domains!