So today I ran five miles. But more importantly I made it around Battersea park TWICE. Battersea Park has become something of a Waterloo for me - once is fine but anymore than that seemed like such a mental hurdle I found my legs heading for the gate without me really asking them to.
But today I broke the deadlock. Twice and out. Way. To. Go. It's really strange running on your own. Hang on, ha ha I say running but what I really mean is plodding. I haven't managed a run yet. But anyway I digress. It's strange plodding on your own because you reach these mental milestones and you have no-one to congratulate you so it becomes a serious anti-climax. You smack that roadside bollard with jubilation only to look around, wince and quietly inch off the pavement towards your front door. Plus in this heat everyone thinks you are a total nutter. I feel like strapping a sign to my front saying 'No I'm not doing this for fun or because I think my bum looks big in these shorts (it does BTW), I'm doing it for a marathon so sod off.'
My main focus today was to try and regulate my breathing. Dad's handy tip of breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth failed miserably at the two mile mark when it became apparent I couldn't gasp through my nose.
Good look.
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