Post London Marathon week - also known as the week I battled both post marathon blues and also the ridiculous state I seem to have got my quads into. Post marathon blues is nothing new; give it a Google and there are lots of articles about the challenges of a comedown following a big event which has been the focus of your time and energy for the past months. I always suffer from it, so expected to feel a bit lost this week. I did not expect however my legs to be so slow to recover from running 26.2 miles. I am usually back into exercise sometimes the day after a marathon, and the past two marathons I have completed have seen me undertake races the week after. This week has been very different though...

MONDAY: the day after London and I was in a lot of pain. My walking was a stiff shuffle and my quads were incredibly painful. The rest of my body seemed relatively fine, but the acute soreness in my quads meant I grimaced with virtually any movement. Needless to say no exercise was even considered. 

TUESDAY: my quads were still very painful today, less excruciating but my mobility was still badly affected. I went to the gym for a steady cycle on the bike to try and encourage some recovery. I also braved the foam roller, which was simply hideous!

WEDNESDAY: a slight improvement in my quads today. They were still sore and stiff, but almost at the normal post marathon levels I am used to experiencing, only three days delayed. I cycled again at the gym before attempting a Body Pump class. What with being away watching my friend in the Boston Marathon and then prepping for my own London Marathon I had not been to the class in over two weeks. Due to this it seemed extra hard work, but I dragged my tired body through.

​The London Marathon 2017 – marathon number four and my fourth attempt at going under four hours – surely it was meant to be?! Having completed London as my first marathon in 2015, I knew it would be a special experience, but I guess I had some doubts in my head as to whether it could be just as good second time round. Would that magic still be there? Would I feel so passionately about it? I also was questioning whether I could run a sub 4 hour time. Deep down I was quite confident. My training had gone very well, I had worked hard, I had exceeded my own expectations, I had remained injury and niggle free, and standing on that start line I knew I was probably in the best shape of my life; healthy and strong. A marathon is never guaranteed though, and alongside the pocket of confidence I had were also the doubts. I had said from day one though, that whilst I wanted to try and go sub 4 hours in London, I would not sacrifice my enjoyment of the day for a time. If I could manage both then it would be a dream; if I managed neither then it would be a nightmare…

Walking into the Red Start at Greenwich Park amidst hundreds of fellow runners on Sunday 23rd April I had tears in my eyes. I felt so emotional and could not really pinpoint it to anything other than the fact I was so happy to be with all these people. I looked at them all and thought of the weeks of training they had gone through, I could imagine the struggles and challenges they had faced, the personal victories they had notched, and also the charities and good causes which were benefitting so greatly from their efforts. The magic of London was starting to hit me already. Compared to 2015 I was much more confident in the pre-marathon ‘logistics’, I knew what I needed to do pre-race; get in the toilet queue, dump my bag on the baggage truck and then get into my pen. Time went quickly and it seemed before I had even had a chance to allow myself to get nervous they were giving us a five minute countdown to the gun.

Crossing the start line I actually did not feel too emotional, just determined to run well. The first three miles then sped by in a blur, although I was pleasantly reminded straight away of the immense level of support to expect. A huge number of people were already enthusiastically lining the streets even in these early stages, and many looked to not be supporting anyone in particular, just us as marathon runners. I also sped through the first three miles a little bit too quick. I wanted to start easy and try avoid too much struggle at the end, but even though I felt like I was running very comfortably I was still ahead of my target pace (8.40 min/mile), instead running more like 8.20 min/mile. I kept thinking of my friend who would be tracking me, and had to give a wry smile as I passed through the first set of timing mats, knowing she would be cursing me!

I settled down a bit after the initial miles and slotted in with a group of runners who all seemed about the same pace as me. I let the miles tick along, running very specifically it seemed between 8.38-8.43 min/mile pace. It was not long before I hit a tough patch though. Between eight and ten miles I was overcome with lots of doubts. Why was it feeling tougher already? Why am I even doing this? Can I actually do this? It seemed much too early for things not to feel comfortable anymore, and I was starting to convince myself a downward spiral was beginning. I tried to focus on the crowd and everything around me rather than on my body, but I was worried. Something lifted me though and that was spotting Jacquie Millet, an incredible runner who I follow online and has now completed over 100 marathons. I ran beside her briefly, I didn’t say anything as she would have no idea who I am, but it really boosted me.

Passing ten miles I felt more relaxed, despite having had a worrying spell, my pace had not dropped and I was doing well. I started to look forward to Tower Bridge arriving. Ask anyone who has completed the London Marathon and they will tell you Tower Bridge is so memorable to run across, the atmosphere is just electric, and I couldn’t wait to soak it all in again. As in 2015, I turned a corner and suddenly the bridge was in front of me. I cried when I saw it (there is a theme developing). Running across the bridge was just incredible. I hugged the left hand side as that’s where my friend was standing, and the amount of people who screamed my name was almost overwhelming. My smile was massive. I spotted my friend; I can’t even remember exactly how I reacted but I know I went crazy for a bit, and then ran on with an even bigger smile on my face. This joy filled me for the next couple of miles, which included passing half way.

I braced myself for the next part of the course as I remember it being a tough section when I ran in 2015, fearing the slightly thinner crowds and fewer distractions. I was wrong though, the crowds were immense, even better than I can remember. People bellowed my name; I honestly thought some of them must have known me through the sheer enthusiasm in their voice. London crowds are simply amazing. Hitting mile sixteen my quads were starting to get really sore though, the course was a lot more undulating than I remembered; not hilly, but just constant little up and downs which I really began to notice. I felt I was running better on the flat, inclines hurt and downhills were no real relief either. With ten miles to go I just prayed the pain would not get any worse. The crowds definitely helped me cope and the pain remained a relatively constant level too which mentally I could accept and I just learnt to deal with. I also started a mantra in my head. My pre-race goal was to get to 20 miles in 3 hours, and then be in a position to attempt the final 6 miles/10k in under an hour. So over and over again I just kept saying to myself – 20 miles, 3 hours, 20 miles, 3 hours…. It sounds a bit mad but it distracted me from my quads and kept me focussed.

I hit 20 miles in roughly 2hr 55mins – I was very happy. I could now feel my legs were getting tired and it was therefore a relief to be ahead of my time goal. It now meant I had some extra time to effectively play with and still be on track for that sub 4 finish. I didn’t let myself become complacent though. I started a new race in my head focusing on the next six miles, aiming to get to the final mile and still feel reasonably good for a strong finish. I focussed on each mile marker appearing, let the crowd buoy me along and simply dug deep, remembering all my training.

Entering the embankment I was now dipping into just over 9 min/mile pace, but I knew I was still on track and I just had to keep going. This stretch seemed never ending, but the further I crept along the more confident I felt. I spotted the BBC’s Colin Jackson stood at the side of the road, microphone poised obviously on the lookout for a celebrity, and I high fived him enthusiastically. Then I heard the familiar sound of my parents calling my name. I turned and waved at them with more gusto, so happy they had spotted me and had seen me running strong. The last time my parents came to watch me run I was walking the final mile of the Manchester Marathon in 2016, it hence meant a lot for them to see me running happily.

Turning by Big Ben, it suddenly seemed real. I was going to do this! My legs instantly felt a hundred times stronger beneath me, and an extra level of determination filled my stride as I entered Birdcage Walk. My friend was here supporting again and we spotted each other. Any form of grimace that may have been on my face was soon filled with a massive beaming smile; I clenched my fists and attempted to shout ‘I’m going to do it!’, and I could tell by the expression on her face looking back at me she knew I was too. As I made the final turn onto The Mall I cried (again). The sight of that finish is just so iconic. I always used to dream of running down there and now here I was doing it again. It was just such as special moment. I lost it a bit at this point - in a good way! I went absolutely mental at the photographers who were crouched along this finishing stretch, pumping my fists and celebrating in a style very out of my usual character – I wish I could bottle that feeling and share it with others. Overjoyed, I crossed the line in 3:51:03.

I cried (yes again) when I was handed my medal. ‘Are you ok?’ the volunteer asked. ‘Yes, happy tears!’ I replied. My quads were in bits but I did not care as I stumbled through the goody bag, t-shirt and baggage collection stations, looking forward to greeting my supporters. I found them, hugged them, and just felt a total mix of all emotions. A marathon requires such physical, mental and, as I found in this race more than even, emotional effort that upon finishing it’s like you do not quite know how to feel. Relief that I had cracked the sub 4 hours? Simple pride in myself? Gratitude to have such wonderful friends and family? Pure happiness? Probably it all at once.
 
The London Marathon in 2015 was very special. I achieved my lifetime goal of running London and I demonstrated to myself what I was capable of both physically and mentally. The London Marathon in 2017 was just as special. I achieved my sub four hour goal and confirmed to myself what an amazing and positive impact running has had on my life. I am also proud this year to have been able to support a charity –Project Africa Athletics –who share the same mission in changing lives through running.  
 
On Saturday before the marathon I met Paula Radcliffe at the London Marathon Expo and had my photo taken with her and asked her to sign my race bib. I also listened to her talk about the London Marathon. One of the questions the interviewer asked her was how she treated herself after the marathon. Haagen Dazs ice cream, she replied, she had dreamed of it whilst running. When I arrived home from London after the marathon I lay on my bed with two giant bags of Maltesers – anyone who knows me knows how much I love these - and a bottle of Old Mout Fruit Cider by my side. This bottle was given to me by my friend before the Manchester Marathon in 2016, when I had hoped to go sub 4 hours. After an eventful race in which it basically did not happen, I could not bring myself to drink it. The bottle has sat in my cupboard for over a year, waiting to be appropriately opened. The London Marathon on Sunday 23rd April was that day. Cider and Maltesers – that’s how all the elites recover right?  ​

Week sixteen - otherwise known as race week. This week has felt odd in many ways. I arrived back from America on Tuesday after supporting my friend run the Boston Marathon, and then had to suddenly switch my mind to thinking about my own race on Sunday. Physically I have felt fine, and have not really suffered too much from the effects of jet lag etc. Mentally I have found it difficult just to put my time in Boston to one side so quickly and, I guess you could say, move on. Then throw into this mix that it is a huge taper week and I suddenly find myself with barely any miles to do and a whole lot of (over)thinking time... give me a 50+ mile week any day!

MONDAY: Rest Day

TUESDAY: after a long day of travelling, having left America late Monday night and arrived back at my familiar front door today at 4.30pm, I felt weary. I took myself out for steady 4 mile run though which helped to normalise me a little, especially treading on some familiar paths.

WEDNESDAY: another 4 miles, this time with some short intervals mixed in; 10 x 200m with 200m recoveries. This felt fine and served a purpose to freshen both my mind and my legs up a little.

THURSDAY: my last run pre-marathon - a steady paced 3 miles, which seemed like it as over before I had even started! 

FRIDAY: Rest Day

That's it. Tomorrow I head down to London and will brave the Expo to collect my all important race number. Then Sunday I run 26.2 miles through the streets of the capital. ​

​Following my trip to Boston, Massachusetts I can conclude it is a brilliant place to visit. However, visiting Boston over the marathon weekend is even better. I was not running the event and had travelled to America to support my friend and running buddy; however I loved how the atmosphere around the city built steadily as race day approached, and the community and passion which Boston has for its race emerged strongly. At times I was hit with waves of real regret that I was not able to take part. I think if I had turned up just on race day it would have been different, but being immersed in everything made me want it so much more. I was there, I was fit, I hope (!) I am marathon ready, but yet I couldn’t run. I will work hard for my Boston Qualifying time though and will run one day,  and obviously there was no way I was going to visit Boston and not run at all. I enjoyed some of my final London Marathon training runs around Brookline, a small suburb I was staying in, and also completed the Boston Athletic Association 5k event. Marathon Monday was the main event though and I could not wait for it to arrive.
 
Boston Athletic Association (BAA) 5K
If the atmosphere of the BAA 5k is anything to go by then there is no wonder the Boston Marathon is so special. On a beautiful sunny and warm Saturday morning thousands of runners flocked to Boston Common to enjoy a run around the central city streets. I was not racing the event like I would normally do, but I didn’t even want to. I not only had my own very close London Marathon to think of, but I was also running it with my two friends, one who was taking on the marathon and the other who would be running her first ever running event. We wanted to run together and we did. The route was perfect, a taster of some of Boston’s streets, which were really well lined and very noisy, and also featured the last section of the marathon, including crossing the infamous finish line. I particularly loved running under a bridge which proudly bore the wording ‘Boston Strong’, a phrase synonymous with the marathon and Boston after the tragic bombings at the 2013 race. That phrase would also grow to mean so much more than it already did by the end of the trip. It was an equally amazing feeling running the Boylston Street finish and I kept imagining what it must be like to see that finish line when taking on the marathon; I was incredibly excited for my friend to experience that. As I would normally be running my local Lincoln parkrun on a Saturday morning, I thought I would wear a Lincoln parkrun vest – specially purchased for the occasion – and was pleased to get a few comments from runners, one woman even tapping my shoulder mid run and simply saying ‘parkrun!’ to me accompanied with a enthusiastic thumbs up. I simply did not want the run to end, but it had to, and we finished with huge smiles, hand in hand across the line. For a first ever race my friend definitely chose a good one!
 
Boston Marathon
I am the most anxious spectator ever. I barely slept Sunday night with a mix of nerves and excitement for my friend. I live the marathon experience vicariously, and I could feel my stomach churn as I thought of her boarding the bus out to Hopkinton where the marathon began its long journey into Boston. I was so thankful I could be in Boston to watch her take on such a special event; she had earned her spot and deserved to have a race to remember. I was proud of her for being able to stand on that start line before even the marathon itself had started. We had planned to see my friend in Newton, around Mile 17, and then hop back on the train to the finish area. It was another beautiful day for spectating, blue skies and sunshine, but I was worried about the heat for running already as we took our spot along the roadside. My worries were not helped as runners started to appear and some looked to be really suffering. Having spectated at the London Marathon before it was very interesting to see the contrast in Boston, a much thinner more spread field and definitely no giant beer bottles or rhinos taking part! The atmosphere was good though, despite not being a particularly notable part of the course, and people were supporting whether or not they knew people taking part of not. Boston loves it marathon.
 
I was anxiously tracking my friend, doing mental calculations using her distance, pace and the time of day to work out when she would get to us. When that window did arrive the tense scanning of runners’ faces began. I was quite confident of spotting her though due to the much less dense amount of runners lining the streets; I had spotted her on Tower Bridge in London amid the hundreds of bodies so I had no excuse really! We saw her, we cheered, we encouraged and she looked in control. As ever when watching someone you know take part in a race, the moment felt like it was simply not long enough. I wanted to tell her she looked good and just to keep it steady, settle in ready to conquer the infamous Heartbreak Hill. She would know that anyway, but a simple ‘Go Colette’ felt slightly pathetic for the effort she was exerting, and I wanted to give so much more.
 
We then scrambled to the train and made our way back to the finish area. I knew this would be busy and any plans of getting onto the final Boylston Street stretch were scuppered by the huge queues to get through security. We opted instead to stand on Hereford Street, almost as famous, with the final directions of the Boston Marathon being widely known as ‘make a right on Hereford and a left on Boylston.’ We were less than a mile from the finish and squeezed into a space on the barrier to begin the anxious wait all over again. I calculated the time I expected my friend to appear and started to scan faces. She didn’t appear and panic rose within me that we had somehow missed her, which I would have been devastated about. I was getting despondent until I suddenly spotted her and instantly almost wished I hadn’t…

I have watched events before where I have seen exhausted runners, runners barely able to move or function normally, and it is difficult to witness. Seeing someone you care about in that state was truly awful. My friend was moving still but she was unrecognisable from her normal running or walking posture. I screamed at her nevertheless trying to get her attention. She was so close now, she just had to finish. Although my friend doesn’t remember this, she looked our way, and I guess our support must have stirred something in her as she attempted more of a run. It was painful to see her struggle but it gave me a glimpse of hope that she was not totally gone; her never failing determination was there, her body just needed to hang in there too. I felt helpless and wanted more than anything just to jump the barriers and support her. It was a horrible feeling. She then turned the corner onto Boylston Street, leaving us clueless as what would happen. So I ran. We left the barrier and started a mad dash through the crowded streets, just trying to get to the finish line. The volume of people made this hard, as did the road closures which led us on a hugely frustrating and mazey route. I kept my phone clutched in my hand, still tracking, hoping to see a finish time pop up. I didn’t care what the time was, I just wanted to know she had finished. When it did I felt a small bit of relief, but I still knew she was not in a good way.
 
We made it to the finish line but could not see her anywhere. My gut was telling me she would be in the big white medical tent which was across the road from us and next to the finish. Despite desperate pleading with the stewards, they would not let us cross. This left us with no option other than to tackle the crowds again and fight our way through the streets to try get to the tent. My emotions were all over the place at this point. I kept ringing my friend but she didn’t answer, which made me think she was almost definitely in that tent, but also made me fear what state she was actually in.

It took us nearly an hour to get to the tent, although we now knew she was definitely in there that after visiting the information desk on route. The tent was surrounded by metal barriers and the atmosphere around was unnerving; worried families and friends trying to track down loved ones. It took an agonising further half an hour for us to get any information, they were clearly very busy and just doing their best, but thoughts just kept racing through my head. Finally hearing news was a massive relief, it sounded like she had been in a bad way upon finishing and had been treated for heat stroke, but she was slowly recovering. We could not go in and see her throughout this, so the moment she finally emerged slowly from the tent, now nearly two and half hours after last sighting her on Hereford Street, made all the emotions suddenly feel worth it. I gave her the biggest but most gentle hug I could manage as she still looked very weak and tried to hold back the tears. Most importantly she was ok, but there was also a Boston Marathon finisher medal proudly hung around her neck.  
 
It later came to light my friend was supported down Boylston Street firstly by two fellow runners, and then by two soldiers who helped her complete the final metres across the important finish line. It was hard to look at the images and videos which have emerged of this moment my friend crossed the line, as she looks in considerable distress, but at the same time they epitomise the Boston Strong spirit; a community of people, looking out for one another, helping each other, and united in one goal. I wanted my friend to complete the Boston Marathon and she had done that, was it a perfect scenario, not quite. But she had done it (still in an amazing time too!) and am I so proud of her and thankful of those who supported her. Boston is both a special place and a special race. ​

I am writing this weekly training round up on a Tuesday evening - which seems both very early and odd! But this week will be odd - in a good way - as I am flying to America tomorrow and will therefore not be sat on my laptop on a Sunday evening as normal reviewing a week of running. I am also a bit OCD and like consistency, so could not just let Week Fifteen disappear! I am bound for Boston to watch my friend and running buddy take part in the prestigious Boston Marathon. I am personally excited as I have never been to America before, but I am also very excited for my friend as I know just how special this race is for her and in the world of running and in particular marathons.

So far this week I have completed my usual Body Pump class and a 7 mile interval run. Both were fine, the intervals were pretty harmless; 10 x 400m reps at 5k pace and felt more like there were waking up my legs rather than pushing them too hard; which is a good feeling for a taper week. Tomorrow I plan to get in four early morning, easy miles before leaving for the airport, and then I will be continuing my training in America. Thankfully with it being a taper week training volume is not too high and therefore it is easier to plan in running and it is much less disruptive. I have a 5 mile tempo run on Thursday and a 10 mile run on Sunday. Saturday’s planned 3 miler will be the Boston Athletic Association 5k race, which whist I will not be racing so close to London, I cannot wait to participate in the event and experience the atmosphere. 

Some people have questioned why I am going to America so close to the London Marathon and I have had a few comments from people about jet lag/tiredness/being out of routine etc. My response has always been the same; it means just as much for me to be there to see my friend conquer Boston as it does me running London. I could fit in both events – so why not! I have been running with my friend for a few years now and, as many people will appreciate, running develops a unique kind of friendship that nothing else can really replicate. With our Spring marathons being so close together it has meant that across these last few weeks our training has also been nearly identical, and we have shared virtually every long Sunday run together, building our bodies up to be able to take on 26.2 miles. It feels like we have been on this journey together even more so this time, and to not see the final outcome, the marathon itself, would be a little heart-breaking. So Boston beckons…and then focus will shift to Sunday 23rd April – London. ​

The first week of the marathon taper. Nothing dramatic, but a definite reduction. Was it easier? Not really. This week I have really felt the effects of the Lincoln 10k which I raced on Sunday. I say raced, as I did race it; I gave it my absolute all both mentally and physically and it left me struggling at times this week. It almost felt like the 10k was what I had been working up to, and I now wanted a break from pushing my body and mind and not be so structured with my running. I have found the desire though, with London creeping so very close just the thought of being stood on that start has been enough get me to lace up my trainers and get out the door.

MONDAY: Body Pump class

TUESDAY: a struggle of an interval run. I had 9 miles on my plan with 10 x 800m efforts at 10k pace and 200m recoveries. I did not try to run at my 10k pace from Sunday's race, that would have been ridiculous, but I wanted to aim for around 7.20-7.30 min/mile pace on the interval sections. The first few bouts felt ok, but as the miles added up my legs faded and I increasingly struggled to find the desire to push myself to run fast and get through the pain.

WEDNESDAY: a steady run before Body Pump. The running element was relatively straightforward; 8 miles at an average pace of 8.16 min/mile. Body Pump afterwards was horribly hard though. I should have guessed I was low on energy as I struggled to find the effort to foam roll before the class, and as the class drew on I then felt like every ounce of my energy was slowly draining away. I was almost in a zombie like state by the end!

THURSDAY: I had to force myself out the door this evening, with my only motivation being it was a lot less miles than I have been used to running. Despite nearly not going it was in fact a good run; 6 miles with the middle 4 miles between 7:45 and 8 min/mile pace. I also had a Sports Massage today which helped rejuvenate me sightly. 

​FRIDAY: Rest Day

SATURDAY: I had contemplated taking things easy on today's Lincoln parkrun visit, but as soon as I arrived I knew I could not resist giving it my all. My legs did not feel perfect as I lapped the beautiful Boultham Park on an equally lovely spring morning, and I was therefore really pleased to finish in 21:40.

SUNDAY: on another glorious day, which felt more summery than spring like, I enjoyed a 15 mile run with my friend. 15 miles actually seemed short (which is what marathon training does to you!) and we ticked the miles off probably a bit too quickly, ending with an average pace of 8.25 min/mile. I just loved being out though and after a few challenging runs mid-week it was a joy to run with just pure pleasure. This was my last long marathon training run on UK soil (see image) as I head out to America on Wednesday to watch my friend and running buddy take on the Boston Marathon. Next week's training will therefore look very different, both in mileage and locations, and will also offer me a bit of a positive distraction from my own very fast approaching marathon. ​

Since starting to run and take part in races I have always said that one day I would like to run a sub 45 minute 10k  – did I think that day would be the Lincoln 10k 2017? Not at all. But stood waiting to get my medal engraved post run it almost seemed unreal that I was having 44:18 inscribed on the back – a new PB, nearly three and half minutes quicker than my previous 10k record, and virtually 10 minutes quicker than my last 10k race.

Throughout the previous years I have taken part in my hometown event, I have always enjoyed ‘Lincoln 10k Day’ as it has quickly become known. It is special to share running and race experiences with others, and whilst I am lucky to have friends who I share many running memories with, the Lincoln 10k  involves so many other people I know it is great to be able to celebrate and witness such achievement. I was excited for the day; both the run and the post run celebrations which have also become a bit of tradition. I felt like I had the potential to challenge my existing 47.40 PB, it was three years old, and after a string of disappointing 10ks during 2016, I felt like I wanted to prove I had become stronger.

Having to wait until 11am to start the race felt like forever having spent the last few months getting up early on Sunday mornings for a long marathon training run. The benefit of living in Lincoln though is that I could enjoy a nice relaxed walk to my friend’s house, and then onto the start line, with some of the usual stress of race day removed. Standing in the start funnel I recognised many faces around me and filing into the pens, reinforcing my belief that the 10k really does bring the city together. On our walk to the start I had noticed the starting section of the course was very narrow, so I was prepared to begin slow and then launch my attack. I had a risky strategy of treating the race like a parkrun and seeing how long I could hold on for – probably not overly recommended, but we all have to try something new sometimes!

As predicted the start was narrow and slow, but rather than panic I knew it was only a couple of hundred metres until we would be set free onto a much larger road – the benefits of local knowledge! Entering this road I felt unleashed and soon got my legs to turn over quicker and settle into a good rhythm. My first mile was very quick, and as I neared the end of mile two I feared I might have blown it already as things started to feel less easy. The thought I was going to struggle entered my mind briefly, but I pushed it out equally as quick as I headed onto familiar roads and broke the course back down into miles - hang in there for another mile and see how it goes. Between mile two and three everything changed, I lost the uncomfortable sensation and really hit a solid running pattern; my legs, arms, breathing, everything felt in sync, and I started to take over many other runners who perhaps and gone a little too quick to begin with.

The Lincoln 10k course is reasonably flat although there are some small inclines which feel harsh because of the speed you are attacking them at. It was on one of the first real climbs that I truly felt I was strong and found myself coming off the incline without faltering, a sign my legs were ok. The next stretch was all about maintaining, and with my watch going over the four mile mark, the thought of ‘only’ two more miles suddenly seemed very achievable. As I reached five miles a glance at my watch then told me a good PB was on. This spurred me to attack the final mile, which is predominantly on a gradual incline and at that point feels horrendous on the legs!

This week has been out of my normal training/running routine, with changes made due to me running the Lincoln 10k on Sunday. It has therefore also seen me take two total rest days, which I think is the first time this year this has happened! Normally I would feel lost and sometimes a bit guilty about taking more than one day off, but I could definitely feel my body needed it this week, and I actually enjoyed knowing I was doing it good. 

MONDAY: Body Pump class

TUESDAY: an early morning interval session with 5 x 1 mile reps over an 8 mile distance. Mile reps are hard; they feel long, almost like they go on forever at times. I was therefore very happy my recovery periods were 400m, which seemed massive after weeks of running 200m recovery distances. I ran my mile reps consistently at 10k pace, and was pleased with how I felt despite a rare morning run. 

WEDNESDAY: this run almost seemed an exact repeat of last Wednesday's run - I had ten easy miles on my plan, but struggled to make them feel easy. I tried to slow it down, but that felt hard, and then when  I naturally sped up a bit I was constantly panicking in my head about going too quick! The result was another run at 8.30 min/mile average pace, which  is neither 'easy' or 'hard' for me. My usual Body Pump class was cancelled afterwards, so I stayed at the gym for Circuits without even thinking it was probably not a good idea to do something new with a long run scheduled for tomorrow - burpees, suicide runs and wall sits were not really needed!