There and back again

Some days are made for running, the sun is out with a smile on it's shine, greeting each bouncy stride with a cheery hello. The wind is light, the paths are dry and you wonder why anyone would be doing anything other than enjoying the wonderful scenery of the world outside the door with a relaxing jog.

Today was not one of those days.

The week started out well enough. On Tuesday I had a "short" five mile run. I dashed home after work to get a quick run in, before rushing into, and out of, the shower to pick up the wife from work. In hindsight I was staggered that not only did the five mile run feel easy, but also that I had reached the point where a distance that used to daunt me, was now just a brief "popping out for a run" distance.

My legs felt nice and refreshed after the rest day, and with memories of last weeks personal best beating run, I decided I'd try and keep the pace up in an effort to beat my 1km personal best which I had only equalled the week before. I failed in that attempt, but I did creep under my 3km personal best by a second which was a nice surprise.

Wednesday's six miler was fairly uneventful, I didn't push it too hard, and concentrated on maintaining a steady pace, around the 8:30 minute mark. The sort of pace I will be hoping to be running at on the big day.

On Thursday hockey training was cancelled due to problems with the floodlights, so I must confess I was lazy and made the most of the unexpected rest day. Friday was another rest day, and the less said about the hockey match on Saturday the better. Needless to say, we're not top of the league any more.

So, on to today's long Sunday run.

I awoke early, and rolled over to check the weather on the phone to see if I could get away with a few more minutes in bed. Unfortunately the rain was coming, so I decided to get up and out there quick sharp, in a bid to dodge as much of it as possible.

Most of my Sunday runs seem to be of significance now, and today was no exception. After last weeks Great South Run equalling distance of 10 miles, this week I was faced with running the farthest I had ever been, an experience I will be repeating quite a few times up to and including Marathon day.

It's a dangerous business, going out of your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to. With the wife's workplace almost exactly six miles away, I took the opportunity to head in the direction of Portchester, on a there and back again type run.

The clouds were grey, and hung ominously waiting to coat me with their watery ammunition. The roads seemed eerily deserted this morning. I'd set off at 8:00 am on a Sunday, but it did feel all a bit "28 days later" until I saw my first car, two miles into the run!

Three and a half miles in I was faced with an unexpected underpass, with a nice friendly blind right angle turn into it. Warily I entered, half expecting a gang of orcish youths to greet me, half expecting someone to be strewn in there following some antics from the night before.

As it turned out, it was completely clear and safe. There's always something worrying about a brightly painted and colourful subway. You just know they're trying to compensate for something. At least I knew it would likely be clear on the way back, of dead bodies at least.

Shortly after, the rain came. Not particularly interesting rain, just the sort of grey horrible drizzling rain, sucking out any glimmer of hopeful colour that had survived so far into the day.

As I reached the turning point, I ran past Portchester crematorium where my grandparents were laid to rest. Reflectively I took a moment to remember them, and knew that if it was at all possible, then they would be doing all they could to support me through the training, and the marathon itself. Failing that, I was heartened by the thought that I would doubtless be thinking of all of them at some point on the day to keep me going. I will after all, need all the help I can get.

Heading back home I realised that I'd had the wind on the back on the way there. On the exposed, wind facing miles, my pace took a bit of a hit.

At the ten mile mark, I really could have done without the footbridge that I needed to summit to make it over the road. My legs really felt that one.

At this point I took a bit of a wiggle for a change of both scenery and terrain and headed for the wood paths that I would usually use for my lunchtime three miles run in the summer.

It gave me a fair few muddy puddles to dodge, but it made a nice change to the relentless pounding on tarmac, and the dreary industrial estates I had been running through.

As I was getting near home, I realised that I'd miscalculated the length and with a short detour I could round it up to half marathon distance. That was, until I spotted the wife walking the dog round the corner from our house. After 12.5 miles in 1:49:34, it seemed like a good excuse to stop running, for some hugs, cuddles and licks. I said hello to the dog too.

Half marathon distance next Sunday.

On the fundraising front I am now very close to breaking through the £200 mark after another bit of a push this week. With pay day looming for most after the long month of January, I have every intention to carry on with that push in an effort to get me closer to my £750 target.