False dawn...

Today was cruel. Just bloody cruel. I ended our last run on a proper high. It felt like the 'best' (or least worst) run we'd done. Decent pace. Decent consistency. Not much stopping and starting. Still a good bit in the tank when we finished. In short, I imagine it's how running feels once you've reached a decent level of fitness. I remember thinking - maybe I'm there, maybe the fitness has finally come.

This morning I found out the fitness hadn't come. The run was only 3 miles long, less than half the distance we covered the other day and less than a fifth of the distance I did on Saturday's long 'un. But within 10 minutes of leaving the house everything felt wrong. 

My body felt heavy. My legs felt sore from the word go. I was puffing and panting and sweating and just feeling like I was running on fumes the whole way round. El ran far better and faster but it still felt that we were both struggling to match the other night without really knowing why.

While I've really enjoyed recent runs to the point I've risked becoming the type of dickhead who evangelises about how 'great running is', this morning I just totally hated it. Every minute of it. I think it was my body's way of reminding me that there's still a long way to go before we can manage anything like marathon distance. Or maybe it was just reminding me 'don't become one of those running dicks or I'll punish you'.  

Distance: 3.5 miles/ 5.7km
Time: 31 minutes
Total distance (Andy): 47.5 miles/ 66.3km
Total distance (Elliot): 61.4 miles/ 95.8km