I don’t usually bother writing about individual runs, especially when they’re on your bread and butter routes. Tonight’s route was just one of those, but a run that’ll mark itself as one of my most important runs this year.
It reminded me that running anything less than 8km is just not fun. I need that sort of distance just to warm up, and it was only after the 8th kilometre tonight that I started to finally feel that the run was effortless. Not only that, but it was probably the fastest I’ve run a 12km long run, at least since coming back from recent injuries. What it gives me is that mental edge to get the distance in – and that it really does get easier the longer I run.
I’m not one for the sprints, more a longer distance runner where at my ability level, tenacity and hard headedness count for as much as talent. While I may have tendancies towards the longer runs, my genetic make up shows more of a predilection towards 1980’s World of Wrestling build than any of Crams, Ovetts or Coes of that era. Still, it’s why we do it, not because we’ll ever likely win anything in the field, but that we enjoy each and every kilometre that we run. Or in my case, each and every one beyond 8km.
It gets easier, I know that with a bit more training that the difficult 8km will reduce to 4 km, but it’s exceptionally difficult when you’re returning from a lay off and you’re limited to short runs that aren’t sufficient to warm up. It makes each and every run an ordeal.
So tonight, perversely listening to upbeat Manu Chao while running near the dreary A486 in the rain and cold, I had an excellent run. My looming half seemed unattainable this morning, especially with the slight hangover that had mysteriously appeared over night. After “that” run though, hangover cured and running in barefoot trainers (my longest barefoot run to date, I’m a convert!) and with an inexplicably fast run under my belt, It’s starting to look like a fun run.