Dirty Dozen

12 miles today, by myself due to manflu. 1h 33 mins’ pounding the streets; a football game with no half time. The first 4 miles felt good, the tedium set in during the middle 4, but the pain didn’t really arrive until mile 9, at which point I was leaving Camden and just starting the slow climb north.

I haven’t had a really painful run since finishing my marathon training. When I was regularly running over 13 miles of a Sunday I judged my fitness on the time in the run that my hip joints started to scrape together like chalk on a blackboard. It was a temporary pain and I’m not sure how, but I knew it would go away once I stopped.

On the day I ran the marathon, the hips kept quiet until mile 19. This morning they were 10 miles short of that. It hurt, but I knew I wouldn’t stop running even though I wanted to, very much. I got through it by thinking about the sun, the song that was playing at that moment, the passing strangers who might judge me for stopping, my lunch. Anything, basically, other than the state of my legs or lungs.

It was a slog to crown a week of slogs. 32 hard miles, and I’m half way through the plan. I don’t know how fast I can go yet, maybe this week will give me a clue.