So, this week saw me return to work (in the sense of being back in court: I’d spent a fair chunk of my pre- and post-marathon time “off” reading 3,500 pages of court documents), and it left me surprisingly tired.
I ran on Monday (bank holiday) but decided that Tuesday had better be a rest day, as I’d run 4 days in a row and my calves were feeling pretty tired. I was able to squeeze 5 miles in before setting off for Swindon on Wednesday, and ran a very steady 7 miles on Thursday evening. It was one of those beautiful evenings when you feel slightly smug that you’re out in the stunning sunshine, looking at the beautiful views as you run across the Suspension Bridge and from the plateau in Ashton Court, and generally being thankful for everything running adds to your life (this photo isn’t from Thursday, but still shows the fantastic Avon Gorge in all its glory, with a shadow from the bridge).
On Friday morning I got an email from Bristol & West’s Ladies’ team manager asking if I was willing to go to Southampton the next day to fill some gaps in our track team, as we’d had some last minute drop outs. On the strict understanding that their expectations were low, and a few points from me finishing near the back were better than no points as a result of having no athlete, I agreed. I hadn’t intended to race for another few weeks, possibly not even for another month, but I figured the club were pretty desperate to be asking a long distance specialist with battered post-marathon legs to step into the breach, especially as this wasn’t the Midland League, which I usually do, but the National League, which is a much higher standard.
We arrived in Southampton and after a bit I headed off for my warm up. My legs still felt pretty heavy, and although the sunshine was beautiful, the wind was a bit strong (over 4m/s at times: they let the sprinters/jumpers know, as if it is over 2m/s then any personal bests scored with a tail wind don’t count). I lined up for the 3,000m, feeling more than a bit apprehensive. I did my best, I really did, and my breathing wasn’t too bad, but 89-90s/lap felt really, really hard (certainly after the first few laps: there was a brief honeymoon period before the lactic acid kicked in when I thought I might be about to get away with it). I crossed the line in last place in 11.13, which is 27s slower than my best (and my 3,000m pb is weak compared to my 10k, half marathon and marathon times!). My legs were incredibly sore, and it was plain that my post-marathon recovery was by no means complete. It felt like I had travelled a hell of a long way to run incredibly badly: I’d run over 2 minutes slower than the girl I’d replaced on the team would have managed! Still, it wasn’t like I’d agreed to do the 1,500m in about an hour’s time or… no, I had. To try and ensure my legs didn’t completely seize up I went and jogged gently for a mile, then had some energy drink and lay down, then had another very gentle jog before toeing the line for the 1,500m. I managed a fractionally quicker pace over 1,500m than I did over 3,000m: 5.30 (88s/lap vs 90s/lap), and also managed to finish last but one rather than last, thus securing a few more points than I’d feared. My hamstrings, calves and glutes were so tight as I finished. I did the bare minimum of warm down, and then tucked into my “lunch” (it was 4pm, but with races at 2.15pm and 3.35pm there was no good time to eat between breakfast and the race!).
This morning I just did a very, very steady 4 mile run to loosen the legs a little (bringing up 30 for the week), and then went to an orchestra rehearsal. The New Bristol Sinfonia turns 20 this year, and we are celebrating on May 20th with a concert in Clifton Cathedral. Beethoven (Coriolanus Overture), Brahms (Violin Concerto) and Sibelius (2nd Symphony). It’s a delightful programme and the rehearsal was a complete joy.
running home for christmas 