Forgive me for starting by stating the obvious, but every runner has them.
Sometimes, I think it’s best to just leave the objective measures behind and follow my heart on a run. Sure, there are days when it’s obvious from the outset that the best I can aim for is a personal worst. I simply accept that my splits shall be horrendous, my pace will be so laughable that it might just have entertainment value and my legs feel like bloated slugs at 5 km and my feet will have turned into dumbbells by the time I finish.
But it always helps me immensely to remind myself that as long as it’s tough, whatever the reason, the workout will ultimately only serve to make me stronger. And that, after all, is one of the reasons why I train in the first place.
Besides, any day on which I run is better than a day on which I don’t run.
It’s not as though I need an incentive to get out the door and kick the ground for a while, but today also happens to be National Fitness Day in the UK.
As for yours truly, I decided to pay my old friend the beach a visit today. It’s been almost five days since I last ran on the beach and it was time to replenish the pesky reserves of sand between my toes. Although I enjoy beach runs, I also tend to find them quite tough, both physically and mentally, as they can be quite monotone and there are few landmarks to aim for.
As I rumbled along the waterline, the clouds which had already invaded every inch of sky sneakily called for reinforcement in the form of their bigger and darker comrades, aka the common rainclouds. Naturally, the assembled army of clouds opened the floodgates at the precise moment when I was at the precise point when I was furthest away from my car (which I am sure is in keeping with one of the lesser known laws of nature and sod).
As long as it’s warm, I actually quite enjoy running in the rain. (Hey, I have to keep telling myself that, this is Scotland after all!). I kept my head down – literally, as the rain was mixing with my sweat and running into my eyes – and covered up the evidence left behind by a summer of running in the form of shapes of various sports bras imprinted on my skin by means of rather entertaining tan lines. (And, fear not, this is not the place where I will launch into a soliloquy about the state of my battered feet!).
I still managed to push myself to run a negative split over 12 kilometres, which is always nice. Did I mention that I love this sport?
Happy National Fitness Day everyone!