Self-chicked

Just when you think you are getting the hang of this marathon running lark, you do something that makes your thighs go 'oi, cocky, what are you playing at?'

In my case, it's pacing. I paced my first marathon badly but paced my second one to perfection. I thought I'd cracked it.

On Thursday night, I knocked out 7 consistently paced hill intervals and congratulated myself on really mastering pacing.

Then today I ended up crawling for the last 5 miles of my long run, because I ended up overdoing it on the Thames Towpath in an effort not to get duded (copyright: lazy girl running). It did cross my mind I was going too fast for my long run, but it was sunny, I felt good and I was winning! He couldn't get past me. So on I went, picking up my pace and increasing the gap between us. At mile 10, my rival finally peeled off and I realised I'd been racing a tall woman of 'advanced years' - gutted.

I think the moral of that story is 'you always need to focus on your pace, no matter how good you think you are' (and maybe check who's chasing you before you start 'racing')