Yesterday I took my cuts and bruises out for a 10 mile race. Maybe racing 10 miles after only two 3 mile runs in 3 weeks is a bad idea. Maybe I should have given the foot injury another week. Or maybe yesterday wasn't my day.
Tempted out of the house by a beautiful and uncannily warm Sunday in April, and the thought of running along the lovely Thames instead of a traffic-filled road or a dog-filled park, I decided to go ahead and race anyway.
The first warning sign came when I could not get my Clif bar down me at breakfast time. Normally these are a great raceday breakfast, but yesterday I felt like I was trying to eat a brick, with no appetite whatsoever. I forced the majority of the bar down, along with a small coffee, and headed out to the race site.
All started off well, with a good even pace and no real issues with the foot injury. The uneven towpath is not the best surface for running, admittedly, but nevertheless it makes a really pleasant change to be running in glorious sunshine where the only traffic noise is the swish of a rower's oars through some very picturesque bits of the Thames. The surface caused a couple of fallers, so I was glad to get my fall out of the way earlier in the week. Yesterday's stony gritty surface was causing some nasty cuts.
After 6 miles, Beloved turned up alongside me on the bike to shout some encouragement - it was well timed, because it was at this point my faulty right foot was start to voice some serious displeasure at the level of activity I was asking of it. However, Beloved pointed out that I was making good time, so I relaxed a bit and kept on.
Unfortunately, in mile 7, just as I approached Kew Green, the foot went into major spasm. I had to stop completely for a few seconds, then limped a few yards until the pain went off. As soon as the pain subsided, I started running again.
I can hear a voice now saying 'duh, why did you start running again?'. I'll admit to be pathetically stubborn on several points and one of those is definitely race mementos worth winning. I was determined to finish and get my engraved pint glass so onwards I went. Also, from a practical point of view, I had driven to the race start and had to get back to the car so I could get home, so really had very little choice. I am not totally mad.
I managed another half a mile before stopping again. This time I loosened the laces on my right shoe to ease the pressure, and remove a stone that had worked its way in. Off I pressed again and made it safely to the 9 mile market without further incident. As soon as I entered the final mile though, my foot made its final protest and went into spasm again. I part-limped, part-hopped, part-ran the final mile - finishing in a depressingly slow 1:42 - 11 minutes slower than last year. I wasn't totally last, but very nearly.
The patronising tones of the marshals didn't help either. They seemed to be talking to me like I was some simpleton who had decided randomly to run that race because it was a nice day. I wanted to say 'I run faster than this, I do, I do' but couldn't for wincing with pain.
On the plus side, I got the damn glass - so it was not a total failure
I'm back in rest mode with the foot, and hoping to be back out again for another 10 mile race in 11 days. Certifiable - yes. Stupid - maybe.
LON
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