Before I even knew it, Wednesday was on me again. And time for another long run. Obviously I was giving myself plenty of time to recover - it was after all three full days since I played in the Ultimate tournament, two days since my last run (of only 6k!) and well over twenty four hours since I'd last done any sport. Even walking up the road I could feel the twinges - tense calves and hams, and the previous day's Ultimate had been tiring.
Still, the thing about the plan is that it's day like yesterday that you write it for. Not to make you run when you've got injuries, but to make you run when you really don't want to. And trust me, yesterday I really didn't want to.
I'd been caught up in something at work, so I'd ended up leaving a little later than I'd planned - around 6pm - so by the time I left the flat it was past 6:30pm, and a long run could easily see me returning at 8:30pm. With that in mind I'd had a hot cross bun (basically a sweet raisin roll), a glass of ribena and a glass of water. Some quick sugars to keep me going through my semi-anaerobic phase and then some more complex carbs to make sure that I still had energy after that.
As per usual I broke my run into sections - I didn't feel up to committing the whole distance, so I just committed a little further each time, although to be honest, after I'd passed Cockfosters (section 2) I was pretty sure that I would go all the way out - it's only 50% further to get to Potters Bar, so I'm unlikely to give up at that stage - plus thereafter it's pretty level all the way.
The first stage wasn't great - the time Was OK, but I felt a little rusty - the legs weren't picking up as well as usual, and I could feel the last few days' exercise. Maybe even the last big run :).
Things improved after that, as my pure aerobic phase kicked in and it started to feel OK as I passed Cockfosters and headed out into the solitude. The run up the long hill to the M25 left me a little tired, but not unreasonably so, and before I knew it I was approaching the limit of my previous run - Potters Bar. A quick turn and I was out into uncharted territory.
I was a little surprised by Potters Bar. Admittedly I might not have been running through the centre of town, but there were lots of little shops, but no centres, and there was a mixture of residential and commercial premises. It did, however, have a couple of nice smelling takeaways.
I kept running because I didn't find a nice landmark to turn back at (I tend to opt for big roads since they're easy to identify on a map) and I knew that there was one up ahead according to the map.
I came to a junction where I had to decide one of two roads to follow. I remembered looking at this junction on the map and that it was important I follow one of them, because the other ended up not going anywhere and looked like quite a small road. I chose the easier one (straight on - one crossing versus two) which still had streetlights and a pavement as well as looking not too residential (which means that it won't have lots of little streets to cross).
Guess what? Wrong option... although I wouldn't find out for another couple of minutes. The road was called the Causeway and I followed it along until it made a hard left turn past a pub. The pub incidentally seemed very nice - I think the next time my parents come to visit (with a car) I'll get them to take us over there. And not just so that I can say "*this* is how far I run". Round the corner the lights ran out - there was still pavement though, so it was safe. ish.
On lonely country roads, people tend to put their headlight on to full beam so that they can see dangers as far ahead as possible (for example, me). They dim their lights when they see an oncoming car, but not for pedestrians (in fairness if a pedestrian can't see because of the lights, he or she can stop straight away). The long and the short of it was that I was running on a dark road, where I could just about see a pavement, then a car would come along, temporarily blinding me and making it tricky to see where I was going, then it would pass, leaving me in darkness and having destroyed what little night vision I'd accumulated. My night vision would return to the point where I could just about see the road, then another car would come along. Occasionally cars would come from behind me and highlight the pavement ahead - at which point I'd make a big effort to scan for debris, and make sure that there weren't, for example, big holes.
All this time I was just looking for a road, an excuse to turn back. Now, of course, the very reason I'd chosen the Causeway was because it didn't look residential, so there wouldn't be many roads to cross. Eventually one turned up - not a very big one, but I figured it couldn't be too hard to find on the map - just look for the big long line and find the first time it has a junction. 62 minutes! Wow - this would be my first two hour long run.
And so I turned. As did my luck. Things went fine for a few minutes, safely seeing me back along the dark part of the road and into the centre of Potters Bar. I passed a fish and chip shop, and oh boy did it smell good - all that salt and vinegar and potato. I was just calculating how long it would be before I'd have some food of my own when my mp3 player died. My own fault - I'd decided to have one last run on this set of batteries, and hadn't really thought about the consequences of them running out. Almost an hour of running without music - just the sound of my trainers hitting tarmac and my own heavy breathing.
Then, the real problem happened, my own batteries went. My legs just felt tired. I guess I'd drained them of the easy energy stores they had, and I was, as it were, running on fumes. I considered stopping at a newsagent and using my emergency fiver (first time I'd taken one!) to buy some Lucozade, but decided that I should just keep running. Fortunately, Potters Bar is easily the highest place in my run, so the run back shouldn't be too bad. That's not to say that it's all downhill - the area is pretty hilly, so there are plenty of uphills too.
The problem was I felt tired even on the downhills - not in pain, as I might if I'd hurt my knee, or short of breath, as I would if I'm running quickly and each step is knocking the wind out of me, but drained.
Pride kept me going. The inability to admit I was defeated was the only thing that kept me going. I was not going to use that five pound note. Not on its first outing, and certainly not when I hand't even made this my longest run. I had damn well run all the way out here, and I would damn well run all the way back.
So I kept on running. Down the steep hill, on past the two mini roundabouts (and the first uphill since my batteries went), up to the petrol station, on past Trent Park until I got to Oakwood. The legs felt really tired now, and I convinced myself that I should aim for Oakwood - from where I could get a direct bus to our flat.
Oakwood came, and I opted to continue. I would not give up. I realised ahead of me I had a long painful run, but what would 15 or 16 minutes be compared to the previous nearly two hours? And most of it was downhill except for the final, long, steep hill.
I plodded onward, splitting the distance into shorter and shorter sections. Just get to the next road, the next bus stop, the next step. I passed the roundabout, my half way marker home from Oakwood. Soon the only thing left was the final hill - Slades Hill. Sadist's hill.
I made a valiant attempt - I kept running upwards, barely even able to think by this point. A brief check at the roads I was crossing to make sure there weren't cars. Slowing and slowing, both my legs and my mind. Each step became a battle, until eventually I succumbed. I just couldn't go on any longer. The last thirty seconds I tried to keep running - conscious that all I need do was keep bouncing up and down - anything that meant I wasn't walking. But it couldn't last - I was finally humiliated, forced to become one of those runners I despise, who bite off more than they can chew and are forced to take an unplanned break.
Ashamed I walked up to the top of the hill. I couldn't manage a run even when I got onto a slightly less sloped part. Then the blessed peak - every uphill part of the run was finished. I started to jog again - the last minute of the run, would be done properly. Maybe not fast, but it would be a run.
And then, finally, after 2 hours and eight minutes, I was home. I didn't follow my fantasies - going back to the chip shop on the corner (the 100m just seemed too far, so I'd ask Hazel to do that instead) or just collapsing in the front garden (good job I didn't - apparently it had been cut that lunch time). Instead I just walked up the stairs (how I had the energy for that I will never know).
Once inside I took off my watch and my mp3 "player", answered Hazel's question about whether I wanted Ribena. My pride had taken me through the run - albeit with a short walk - so now was time for the fall. A controlled, graceful collapse in the middle of the living room. It was a planned collapse - I couldn't stand the idea of spending any more time on my feet, so I just dropped slowly downwards, lying there, grateful for the almost full support that the floor offered.
A couple of minutes passed, and then I felt I could sit up again, drink some Ribena, some Lucozade, some more Ribena, eat a hot cross bun (<3% fat and packed with carbs). I realised that I couldn't possibly have expected to be able to run 2 hours without taking water, and, ideally, extra carbs.
I warmed down a little (it's tricky when you standing up is difficult), then had a bath, the tried to have some food - managed four waffles, but couldn't stomach the lasagne - all that water was sitting on my stomach, waiting to be absorbed. So I collapsed into bed, content to sort myself out in the morning.
And so, this morning, how do I feel? Not too bad actually - the run was fairly low impact (I didn't have the energy for anything else) and in the cold light of day, the walk doesn't seem too long, and I'm proud that I made it round at all. Not so proud that I didn't take water though...
Oh, and looking forward to tonight's Ultimate. Well, OK, maybe not.
