Run, Fatboy, Run

It was the annual 4.5 mile fun run at the local pub on Sunday, and this year I did it again for the first time since 2006 (and the time before that was back in 2002). My preparation was terrible. I needed to get some new running shoes before I started training, but I only got around to buying some about two and a half weeks before the big day, leaving myself with a fortnight to get practising. Tsk. My stamina is pretty good because of the cycling I do, but obviously that uses different muscles to running and I needed to get those working again and build up my running technique – which is bad anyway. On the plus side, I’m around 16 pounds lighter now than I was when I last lumbered around the course two years ago, and not having that weight to carry around makes a big difference.

I only did four runs before the big day. The last one was last Friday. I tweaked a muscle in my left leg while I was out. It’s just below the knee, on the inside. I rested it on Saturday, then ran the run on Sunday. The weather wasn’t promising. There was a heavy shower just after I got up, then another about 45 minutes before the run was due to start (11). Fortunately it was just cool and overcast for the run itself, although the headwind coming back into the last half a mile was a right bugger. GB Troy came up to do the run, as did Ginger Rick. My time was atrocious. I was hoping for sub-40 minutes, but I came home in more or less bang on 43 mins, several minutes behind the other two. I’d been running a mile in about 9:15 on my meagre training runs, but it took me closer to 10 mins per mile for the actual event. I didn’t really push myself, I just got into a steady, plodding rhythm and carried on, apart from the last bit when I sped up to beat two kids. Heh. Mind you, 43 minutes is an improvement on 2006, when I took 45:50 to do the same course… it’s still some way off my all-time best, which was 35:54 in 1999. I reckon that if I’d given myself a month beforehand, I could have shaved at least a minute off my time. Oh well, next year.

With the race over, I went to the pub with GB Troy and had a few pints to rehydrate (cough). I fell asleep when I got home, and when I woke up my leg was killing me. Damn. I had to take some paracetemol to kill the pain that was shooting down my shin. We went back to the pub on Sunday night, as alcohol is a natural painkiller. I took it easy on Monday and it seemed to be on the mend. Then on Tuesday, I tripped over something in the kitchen and in the process of stumbling, suddenly put all my weight on my left leg and jarred the bloody muscle again, making it as bad as it was on Sunday evening. Cocks. The pain is fading away, slowly.

Maybe I should give up this lark before something breaks.