It was a surprising feat (haw haw feet/feat...no? Okay), given recent roadblocks, i.e my disobedient, injury-addled body. Naughty body. As a result of today's little adventure, I am SO much more confident that I might actually be able to do the whole marathon distance come June. Which is great news for you, patient readers, because I can then move onto topics other than injuries, mileage and the kinds of food I've been stuffing into my face.
Last night, you ask? Maoams, victoria sponge, sandwiches, crisps. Foodstuff of the elite. Also snacks at a housewarming gathering I attended. Would have been rude not to. Heaven forbid I frighten some of my closest friends by appearing to eat in moderation like a sane person. They might have grown concerned. It wouldn't have been the Becky they know and love.
By love, I mean feed.
Today, the first ten miles was a breeze (albeit a mild one...like an elderly lady simultaneously blowing out candles and trying to keep her falsies in her mouth). Can't say the same for the second ten (Ten two times! Ooh. Possible cool/questionable nickname there), which was a muddle of sporadic walking and desperately clinging to a Spotify playlist heavy on the musical stylings of Wheatus and Alkaline Trio in a bid to retain just a scrap of my sanity.
"Is my arse supposed to feel like it's on fire and about to fall off my body?!"
Also, look! Another conveniently placed bench right on my last mile! Thanks, bench gnomes!
I don't want to speak too soon, because for all I know, I might wake up with the leg equivalent of lockjaw (lockleg?) tomorrow, but I believe this sudden U turn in stamina has come from a pair of trainers I got off of eBay this week. After being taught to run on my forefoot and increase my cadence, my up-until-now beloved and battered Asics were starting to feel like a pair of squishy bricks - dragging my heels down and making my smack my feet on the floor with each step. They're stability shoes, and heavy on the padding. I was told they'd be the best match for me by a dude with a treadmill and a camera (running shop expert-type, not jogger specific perv. I hope). After today, I suspect that Mr Expert might've been just a little bit wrong.
I wouldn't encourage people to do the same thing as me, because I don't want them to hurt themselves based on my example (because I'm such a shining beacon of good habits and wellbeing the rest of the time), but I did my longest run ever today in a pair of more or less brand new shoes. It was their fourth outing, because they only arrived on Tuesday, but hurting myself in new shoes felt like a better alternative to my usual trainers, which have started trying to kill me after just five minutes in them. They've come close to succeeding many times. It was a stupid idea, but I was very lucky that it went well!
"Stellar work, feet/ghostly legs/magical shoes!"
The trainers I bought were Nike Free 5.0s, which were recommended to me during my stint in learning to run like what a Ninja does at Outcast. Nike Frees are super bendy with minimal padding, following the barefoot running trend that's about at the moment. And damn, them hippies is onto something! No pain whatsoever when I run in them, because you can't slam your feet against the floor without properly hurting yourself. Because of that, they force you to run with what feels like a more natural gait, and the biggest thing that surprised me was that it felt harder for me to get out of breath. Probably because I wasn't wading along against a shit ton of padding with each step. And it's weirdly pleasurable to actually know what the floor you're running on feels like. I think I'm developing feelings for gravel. And tarmac. Mmm tarmac.
I need help.
Aaand that's it for this week! I'm off to ride these endorphins all the way to the kettle for another cuppa...provided I can get back up out of this chair. See you soon, unless I get a bad case of the aforementioned lockleg. In which case, bring some WD40 to me, please. And a sandwich.