With Ally away this weekend at a hen party, Isla and I have been given complete run of the house. Papa gets to watch his choice of movie while nursing a cold beer and the wee one can enjoy plums and blueberries to her heart’s content. Sadly, without the extra pair of hands the prospect of me getting out for a run let alone a workout on Saturday was doubtful. Sunday, even less likely. With this in mind, I took advantage of a late start at work and squeezed in a track session early this morning.
Surprisingly, as I drove toward
As I sat on the bleachers lacing up my flats, I watched Seamus was finish-up his workout. He didn’t look nearly as fluid as when he was knocking off a multitude of 27” 200s a few weeks back, and we concluded that there must be something in the air… I had my out. If Seamus couldn’t run well that morning, why should I begin?
Not wanting to delay the inevitable, I decided to forgo the usual strides and hopped straight into the first repeat. It was half way through the first lap that the right-hand side of my back seized, completely taking my breath away. I cruised for a few strides, trying to decide whether to pull the plug but my determination (stupidity) won out and I carried on.
Although I could feel the strain during the remaining intervals, running didn’t seem to make it any worse. I stretched my back during each recovery, would toe the line and then run a controlled 1200. The consistency was uncanny: , , ,
Typically in a session like this, I would split the first 200 in :37, complete the 400 in and have to sprint to make up a 3-4” deficit on the last lap. Today, I split almost every 400 on 80” and was surprised how relaxed I felt, particularly during each closing lap. Welcome to the weekend.
P.s. My back is now worse and the idea of chasing around a highly energetic 15 month old child is going to be a challenge.
Thursday: easy 45:31
Friday: with 4x1200m 5kP (400m)