For one reason or another it was the last possible minute before I got out for the club run, the usual four and a bit so miles as a solo warm up run pretty quickly as I struggled to make it to the club on time.
Once there and it was a shock to the system as the next two miles were well outside nine minutes. This was almost painfully slow, the body wanting to break into a quick walk. Thankfully there were a couple of guys who wanted to push the pace a bit, but even then it took another few miles before we began to tickle eight minutes; only one, substantially downhill, mile did we break eight minutes.
Quite the reason behind this outbreak of slow miles I don’t know. Perhaps everyone was really tired, maybe they were resting ahead of the Ashby 20 on Sunday, a race they really shouldn’t race if they want to race well in April. Whatever the reason we were dawdling along, and the further we went the harder it become.
I need to put things into perspective and it shows how far I’ve come in the last nine months or so. Eight minute miles were quite an effort back last June on all easy paced runs, it says something when they now feel like an awkward shuffle. I cannot speak for nine minute miles as I don’t think I’ve ever run that slowly unless it was either a. massively uphill or b. I was massively injured (Apologies to anyone for whom nine minutes is race pace….)
By the time we’d got back to club, chatted a bit and I’d ran back home, seventeen miles were covered at dead on eight minutes per mile. Good time on feet, to coin a phrase, and hopefully legs will be the better for it ahead of Sunday’s key run, where I’ll aim to run 24 miles at significantly quicker pace.