Weekend of Long Runs

My plan for this weekend was to run two long runs of about 20 miles.  On Saturday I opted to run the loop that takes me east out of Cambridge and through the villages of Bottisham, Swaffham Bulbeck and Swaffham Prior, then towards the river Cam and following that back to Cambridge.  I plodded along at a nice comfortable pace and hardly passed another person.  It was quite a nice morning, reasonably warm for October with no wind, it seemed strange that others weren't out to take advantage of such a nice day.  Once I was within 4 miles of Cambridge and on the tow path alongside the Cam I encountered a couple of other runners, a few cyclists and there was a number of boat crews warming up for some race that was about to start.  I arrived home feeling quite happy with how the run had gone.  My average pace worked out at 7 minutes 25 seconds per mile, which wasn't bad for a route that was half off road.

Today, by contrast, I felt awful.  It was the only time I've had the opportunity to do two long runs, so it shouldn't have been any surprise to discover that it was going to be tough.  As soon as I set off my legs seemed to be complaining, and willed me to turn around and spend the morning on the sofa.  But I ploughed on.  I told myself that after 20 to 30 minutes I'd be feeling fine, and sure enough my legs did start to loosen up as I pressed on.  My destination this time was the Roman Road that heads south-east out of Cambridge.

It was a beautiful morning.  I was practically running straight towards the rising sun with clear blue skies in front of me.  When I got to about 5 miles from home I felt a few spots of rain.  It didn't seem likely that the rain would turn heavy as it was still a lovely autumn morning, with bright sunshine bearing down on me.  But a short time later the heavens opened and I was soaked by a deluge of rain.  I looked over my shoulder and behind me the sky was as black as night, whilst ahead was still blue sky and sunshine.  I had clearly been running just ahead of a weather front which was now overtaking me.  One minute I was feeling blessed by the great weather, the next I was cursing myself for not checking the weather forecast.  I continued on my way but as I got more and more soaked I started to negotiate with myself for an earlier turnaround point from the one I had planned.  So rather than running to 10 miles from home, I continued until I reached the highest point on the Roman Road and turned back from there, just over 8 miles from home.

On the return run parts of the track had turned into small rivers.  I couldn't remember a time when I'd been on a training run in such bad weather.  I'm sure there must have been, but it must have been a long time ago.  The return leg of the run turned into a long hard trudge, and a battle of wills.  My legs felt terrible and it took a huge amount of will power to keep them turning over at what felt like a slow run.  There was no way of bailing out of the run, but if there had been one I might well have taken it.  I arrived back home feeling knackered, soaked through and cold.  I had run 16.5 miles, and my pace was about 1 minute per mile slower than the previous day. For some reason I felt quite demoralized by this.

Thankfully, we were meeting friends for a Sunday lunch time feast in a village pub, so I didn't spend much time dwelling on my feelings of defeat.  The 89 mile Druid Challenge is now just three weeks away.  I can't really do anymore significant training between now and then, so I will have to just hope that I have done enough to get me through.