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Day 107 – The Air Was Thick With Saharan Sand

It was one of those runs I’ll remember not because I ran fantastically – far from it, nor particularly badly – at times it was half decent. It was the freak weather conditions that brought a sandy smog over Grantham which made the eyes sting, the lungs work a little less efficiently, and the skin feel as if there it was being thinly in something not particularly pleasant. Yes Saharan sand brought in on winds from Africa made this a run in proper smog – thankfully it should all blow away in the next 24 hours or so, because no one will want to race in this air.

I missed out on getting to the club run by about five minutes. Truth be told I wasn’t too disappointed, it allowed me to stop regularly when required, stretch, massage, get miserable, get optimistic, get deluded, get realistic. The first miles were similar to recent runs, the left thigh nagging, the hips not wanting to work, a distinct hobble spoiling the stride. Then after three miles or so the pain eased off somewhat and although there was discomfort it wasn’t hindering the running stride. Suddenly little efforts at marathon pace felt really easy and at a heart rate which suggested I was tapering into good shape.

So all I need is to sort the leg out. I’m still optimistic it will all be all right on the night, but at the same time I’d give so much to be in a position where I was fully fit and raring to go rather than wondering if I’ll even be on the start line and then whether I’ll be able to make it to the finish. This state of affairs is not good for the soul…

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Day 106 – Bad, Ok, Quite Bad

A bit like my training as of late this blog has begun to unravel to becoming a sporadic haphazard affair, with belated attempts to play catchup, pretending that nothing amiss is happening. I’ve run three times since I last wrote, a brief précis will follow:

Monday’s recovery run was more akin to a disaster dash. Tired, not feeling particularly well, the legs were stiff and the hips just felt so tight that running was nigh on impossible, breaking eight minute miles the stuff of dreams. The conclusion was that 1. I should have had a protein shake after the run for it was a hard effort and, running early on Monday, I didn’t leave myself much time tor recover, and 2. my running style in this injured state is inefficient and causing a great load on the hips which failed to recover sufficiently.

Tuesday was a club run where 2×2 miles at quicker than marathon pace was planned along the canal. During the day I was regularly stretching the hip flexors in a manner I remembered doing with some success last year. The first couple of miles to the club were a bit wobbly and sore, but once I got into the quicker stuff, once again, much of the pain disappeared. The lure of a Strava segment on the canal spurred me on; the pain as the hips tightened on the way back home demoralised me significantly.

Wednesday morning, first thing, relatively speaking, and I was out for a recovery run. It wasn’t as bad as Monday morning, but it was by no means fantastic. Most parts of the legs felt not too bad including, significantly, the left thigh. The hips however were searingly tight, the IT bands feeling as though they could snap at any moment, the right hip sore and the pelvis aching ominously. Six miles were done, but they were not particularly happy miles. Running isn’t much fun at the moment. Walking isn’t much fun at the moment. The body wants a bicycle or a rest, the latter is probably better for it.