stubside.org
running, veggie food, music, artistic tinkerings

Autumn running

Sunday morning, sun streaming through the window, time to go for a run along the river.

As it's October I had to cross the road a few times to stay in the sun but I soon warmed up and my usual initial fears that it's going to be a slog went. I am still mining this vein of good form that I seem to have found and I'm unsure if I should run harder and longer to take advantage of it or to be extra careful so that I don't 'break' it.

It was one of those runs when the act of running was more important than the running itself. I listened to music on my shuffle and thought a bit about the club members who were running the Abingdon and Amsterdam marathons (they did fine).

After a conversation on Saturday with a better runner than me, I thought about whether I enjoy running or just the after-effects and the sense of achievement. Some runs are a slog but some, like today's, are actually enjoyable to do.

The slogs are a bit dangerous I think. You end up forcing yourself to complete the miles and you remember the effort and discomfort the next time you want to go for a run and it puts you off. I think it would be better to curtail bad runs or run them really easily so that you're not put off the next time.

I reached my usual turning point for when I run from home which is about three miles out but I felt good and so carried on past the boatyard to the bigger boatyard by the main road and then went over the bridge and bounced up the hill and just explored the roads while my pedometer kept track until it showed five miles.

I almost seemed to get faster on the way back and didn't feel particularly tired at the end when I ran past the house to make it up to exactly ten miles.

I walked back to the house and checked the time and was pleased to see that it had only taken me 1hr 19min.

 

Mentors

It seems to me that maybe you need a mentor too. Shout if you do, I'll shout on Twitter there's some bods on there who cross train riding and running. Might be nothing comes back, lord knows.