My running has been a very start/stop affair these past few years. In fact in the last year or more it hasn’t even been on the radar.
But I was asked in an offer I couldn’t refuse way to do a wee local race, so I’ve been on the bike a bit just to let the heart and lungs know what was coming, and tonight I did my first proper attempt at running in a long time.
Phil came along, looking annoying fresh after his fine performance in the Etape Caledonia last weekend and we skipped up the trails through the Kilpatrick Hills.
It was a brisk walk to the top where the pace picked up just in time to stave off hypothermia from the bitter wind, and although I was a little nervous about the whole thing, once I got going it was okay, in fact it was fun. We broke the pace up with some walking here and there, fartlek/interval style, by necessity more than design, but my recovery times weren’t depressing. To be honest I was expecting breathing difficulties and puking all over myself, so anything above that is a win really. It was great teamed with Phil for this, it helped my confidence and kept the pace just right, solo I’d have been all over the place and all tears and snotters.
I know I was slow, I know I’m starting at the bottom yet again, but the freedom of the trails at speed with just a bumbag and a t-shirt is just magic and I felt that more keenly this time that any of my other abortive attempts in recent times.
We’ll see what happens, I’m a little tender here and there as I sit on the couch with a fresh cuppa, but the big test will be what my knee does tomorrow morning when I get out of bed. I’ll either have an excuse or not.