I got back on the horse this week after sore shins grew les painful, fearful of a repeat of performance. I started out a workmanlike 7 k’s and kept this going for 10 mins. I paid scant attention to glances from fellow gym rats, who must have been wondering why I was attempting to run at a pace most choose to walk at.
 |
| No this isn't really me :-) ... it's how I felt in the zone!! |
No matter that I was going slow – my legs appeared to be warming to the task, and my mind was happily distracted by the shapely shapes on FTV (I find the BG treadmills are frequently tuned to this inspirational channel). I increased pace to 8.5K’s and kept going for just under an hour. This was more like it. A couple of stops and starts later, I clocked 6KM in around 50 mins, and hopped off my mount feeling pretty good about myself.
To say I expected “We’re not worthy” type prostration from onlookers, is pushing it, but a grin of encouragement or two would’ve been nice. None was forthcoming. Nevertheless I ran a solitary victory lap in my head – I haven’t run this kind of distance since the early 90s, and so this performance was rawther impressive, to say the least.
I figured running 21 K’s shouldn’t take more than a gentle increase in speed and distance each week, and before you know it, Bob’s yer uncle and I’m breasting the tape. I was still to catch my first episode of Radiant Runner meets Rude Reality.
No comments:
Post a Comment