Marathon training - not going to plan! Not that it ever does or that I even have a plan particularly. I do think if you're going to do a marathon you have to do some long runs in advance, though.
I've been needing to get a long run in for a couple of weeks but every time I up the mileage my legs protest. Ever since a 2 hour run in my shorts in the snow in the Pentlands I've had pains in my knees and up the sides of my knees. Without knowing much about it, I kind of think that I've irritated my IT bands and possibly the meniscus in my knees from running in the cold.
By last Tuesday I'd had a couple of failed attempts at getting a long run in - both times having to cut it short to "live to fight another day". But the clock was ticking and my thinking was that if I didn't get a long run in I might as well give up on Manchester. I don't want to give up on Manchester, though. So in a bit of a fierce black mood I set off on a "no-matter-what" long run on Tuesday. Peter decided to come too.
My legs were fine at first but only 2 or so miles in they were already starting to ache. I stopped and stretched and they were good to go again. It wasn't a good sign though. It went on like that. I didn't know if I would be forced to bail or what might happen, but I just couldn't give up unless I had to. Peter started running at a safe distance after his enquiries as to how I was were met with the contempt they deserved. My pace was glacial but I couldn't let myself worry about that. I was settling into a rhythm. I found my legs would start to ache and get worse and worse until I stretched them every 2 miles or so - then they'd be a lot better and slowly start to stiffen up and ache again. It wasn't great but it didn't actually seem to be getting any worse.
As we approached the Cramond Brig the sun was out and my mood was lifting a bit. This was going to be a slog, but maybe it was do-able. We ran a loop round near the airport - a run that can be nice; through the woods and along the side of the river - but the mud was thick and sticky and atrocious.
Back at Cramond, Peter stopped to commune with the birds, with the aid of some bread. I stopped for as long as I could but it was quite late in the day and although the sun was out the wind was sharp.
By this time we had run 13 miles and although my legs were still giving me trouble there now was really no option other than to finish this run. So I ran another 6 (Peter ran 7) to make a total of 19. Probably one of my slowest all-time long runs but I was very relieved it was done. Hopefully the next one will not feel like that!
At the railway bridge just next to the airport, we had a "burr-off" to see who could get the best picture of a burr. In my opinion I won.
A swarm of geese. Very untidy.
"Take a picture, take a picture there's one on my head!", he shouted. Peter, that was your own hand you were feeling on your head.
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