Now that sounds like an easy decision to make, but believe me it wasn't. I was on such a high from Monday to Friday due to stretching myself beyond what I'd thought possible, that not managing a fifth night seemed like giving in.
In my last entry here I was in pain (..but not suffering, remember?). That was Wednesday. By Thursday night I was as close to suffering as it's possible to be! Each day I'd been pushing myself that little bit further and delighting myself in the slow progress I was making. It might not seem much to most people, but to me it's pretty monumental. For someone who used to practically have an asthma attack running to the end of the road, being able to do a couple of miles in half an hour is nothing short of monumental.
The thing is, throughout this experience I've got this little pang of anxiety undercutting everything I'm doing; this little worry that I've only got two months. And that's not really that long to go from zero fitness to 10K level. That couple with the incredible generosity of everyone who has sponsored me (£690 to date and counting) and I reallyreallyreallyreallyreally want to run the whole thing in a oner and make everyone proud of me. Of course I know that it doesn't matter if I don't run the whole race, and just walk some of it. But I've set myself the task and I'll be damned I I don't give it my best shot.
But Thursday night I reached a limit. I took the dog to his weekly obedience class. (yes - I am one of those people). With him suitably knackered, I parked up by the running track and left him to snooze in the boot for the half hour that the Sports Village was still open. So there I was, 9.45pm at night, stretching by the side of the deserted athletics track, with the wind whistling in my ears. I started my program on calf muscles that were still sore and crampy from the night before and just went for it.
I believe the 10k is the equivalent of running around the track 24 times. It's a hefty reminder of how long I still have to go, despite how far I've come. A training session currently sees me completing around 8-10 laps, with some walking interspersed throughout. Although by the end of this week, it'll have increased still more (eeek don't want to think about that just yet).
So I set off, running to the same program as I'd done at the start of the week. Then I'd mastered it in somewhat of a euporic daze. But this night it was as if all my limbs were full of wet sand, like some taxidermied thing dragging itself in big slow circles. It. Was. Rough.
By the time I got to my final 5 minute stretch it felt like my calves were screaming out at me to stop, the buildup of acid in them was so overwhelming. However, so much of learning to run is about overcoming things psychologically and distracting oneself from the physicial pain. Even when you think you can't go on any more, the body can continue for much longer. So I kept going - in retrospect, a little foolishly. When I did stop my legs practically buckled under me and although I stretched each muscle slowly and carefully, I had to get back in the car and sit for 5 minutes before I felt confident that I could work the pedals in the car and get myself home.
After a hot shower, I stretched myself out on the couch and was in agony. There were cramps from my toes to my knees, and every inch between. It was the previous night's pain, squared. And I had to promise myself that I would give myself two days off, just to let my legs recover and let the muscles knit themselves together again.
The next day I'm sitting in the office, the sun streaming in the window over my shoulder, thinking "I could just go for a quick jog round the park" - but I wouldn't let myself. But I was really and truly itching to go.
Instead I had a weekend full of fun: I went to Nandos. I went to the cinema. I cleaned the flat from top to bottom. I enjoyed a dinner party with some of my favourite people. I walked the dog on the beach at 8am. I went to Makro for crying out loud. I napped on the couch and tonight I had a sushi lesson.
After the lesson I parked the car and, with a paper bag full of maki, I allowed myself a 10 second sprint to the flat. It still hurt. My body has a long way to go to catch up with my enthusiasm.
Now it's bedtime and I'm happy to be laying out my sports gear for tomorrow. I've got two days to make up for.
P.S McNulty got the weekend off too.
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